


Stone Cold Crazy

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Series: Stone Cold Crazy Shadows [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch, a Basilisk and the Winchesters walk into an abandoned amusement park…it's either a bad joke or a recipe for disaster. Post 3x10 "DaLDoM" hurt/limp/awesome!Sam/Dean with a side of awesome!Bobby</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I've had the basic idea for this one for a while sitting in my little document of wonders and it finally spoke to me enough to be written. Hope you all enjoy yet another roller coaster ride. MWahahaha!
> 
> Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P
> 
> Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D – Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

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_**CHAPTER 1** _

Jerry ran. He didn't know what else to do. His friends had left him alone and that…thing was after him. He ducked around the moss grown hulk of a Tilt-a-whirl and moaned, clutching his injured left arm closer to him. Pain burned along his whole arm from where the thing had bitten him. He was panting for breath, sliding and stumbling across the overgrown amusement park. The Ferris wheel rose up above him in the darkness, and he couldn't stop the feeling that it was going to fall on him.

He clenched his teeth as a new wave of agony pulsed through his arm and it seemed to feel heavier and heavier as he ran. He could hear it behind him. Sounds echoed in the night as something grated over loose stone and grass. Jerry tried to run faster. He had to get away. The pain in his arm took so much of his attention, he couldn't watch his feet. He stumbled over a loose chunk of concrete and fell.

He threw his arms out in front of him reflexively to stop his fall and screamed as his wounded left arm struck the ground and shattered. Jerry's voice echoed through the long-deserted amusement park as he screamed and clutched the stump of his arm to his chest. Terror choked off his air as a hiss sounded close behind him. A strangled scream worked its way out of his throat, and he felt his ears begin to bleed. He rolled to his back as the air began to burn in his lungs, and a proper shriek of terror finally broke free as the fire came for him.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Sam walked down the row of stacked cars toward the shop beside Bobby's house. He swallowed around the now ever-present lump in his throat. Dean had months left…and not enough of them. He couldn't even think about what would happen when Dean's deal came due because it paralyzed him. Sam couldn't begin to imagine a life without his big brother in it or what kind of a person he would become if Dean wasn't there beside him as he had been his whole life. Even when he'd been at Stanford, though he'd been alone, just knowing Dean was out there only a call away was enough. But this…this was huge and terrifying and unthinkable. He stopped outside the doors, breathing heavily, and tried to compose himself before he went inside.

Sam wiped irritably at his eyes, pushed at his unruly hair, and opened the door, putting a smile on his face as he went inside. Dean was bent over the engine of the Impala while Bobby stood beside him holding two beers in one hand and handing a wrench to Dean with the other. "Guys."

"Sammy, tell me you came with burgers. I'm starving!" Dean called without straightening. Bobby chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"You're always hungry," Sam said with a chuckle. He held up the sheaf of paper in his hand. "Think I found us a job."

"Whatcha got?" Bobby took the research Sam handed him and traded him one of the beers.

"Some very odd deaths at an abandoned amusement park in Wichita, Kansas." Sam took a swig from the beer bottle and smirked when Dean stood and yanked it from his hand.

"Get your own." Dean finished off the rest of the bottle and leaned against the classic car. "What kinda odd?"

"Couple people burned to death with what has to be some kind of accelerant, but they can't find any trace of it. There are at least seven reports of people gone missing in the park and one woman yesterday who told local reporters she saw a man turn to stone." Sam raised a brow when they both looked at him. "Thought that sounded like our kind of thing."

"Stone?" Bobby bent back to the papers and started flipping through them.

"I think…maybe it might be a basilisk," Sam told them.

Bobby shook his head. "Hasn't been a basilisk sighting for over a century, son." He shrugged. "Hunters and pissed off townsfolk wiped them out in Europe."

"Well, I'm guessing they missed one." Sam's voice was firm. "I've done the research, and what little info we have already seems to point to it."

"We talkin' Harry Potter here?" Dean asked with a chuckle.

"Dude. How can you forget the Latin to break a curse but you remember the plot to Chamber of Secrets?" Sam stared at him and ducked the hand Dean sent to his head.

"I liked Hagrid. Leave me alone," Dean said with a smirk and made Sam and Bobby both laugh.

"No, not Harry Potter exactly." Sam took his research from Bobby and flipped through it, pulling out a page. "They got a lot of stuff wrong. The basilisk's stare doesn't actually turn you to stone. It's the bite."

"Yeah, I remember reading about 'em." Bobby handed his beer to Sam and started cleaning his hands. "They can hypnotize you, make ya forget you were tryin' to get away, and then take a chunk out of ya. Seem to recall something about their scream…or was it a hiss?"

"Hiss." Sam nodded. "It's disorienting according to the lore, and painful, not to mention the whole 'breathes fire' thing."

"So it's a dragon?" Dean grinned. "Never slayed a dragon before."

Sam chuckled. "It's not a dragon, Dean. The basilisk is a crested serpent."

"Well, since it ain't a basilisk 'cause they're all dead, I'll just do a little research of my own while you boys are on the road and see what I can find." Bobby patted Sam's shoulder as he walked past. "No offense to your research skills, Sam, but it just ain't likely."

"Well, whatever it is, it's in need of dying." Dean rubbed his hands together and closed the hood of the Impala. "Let's get packed."

Sam smiled, nodded, and followed them both out to the house. Inwardly, he knew Bobby was wrong. It was a basilisk…it had to be. He needed it to be. He had found reference to an obscure spell, and he would need part of the basilisk for it. Sam took a breath to steady his nerves. He felt duplicitous not telling them all of what he'd found but knew with surety that, if he told them, Dean would veto the hunt. He'd make Bobby pass it off to someone else, and Sam couldn't afford that; Dean couldn't afford that.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Dean thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Zeppelin thumping out of the speakers as they drove. He glanced over at Sam with a smirk. His little brother had his head buried in the research as he had for three hours now. He decided he'd let him geek alone long enough.

"What amusement park are we goin' to anyway?" Dean asked and reached over to lower the volume slightly. "I could go for some fried dough."

Sam glanced over and rolled his eyes. "Abandoned, remember? It's called Joyland Amusement Park, or it was."

"Huh. No kidding." Dean nodded and focused on the music for a moment. "I've been there. It was…right before Dad took us on the road. You were still a baby."

Sam looked over in surprise. "It was still operating?"

Dean shook his head and smiled. "Already abandoned. Some older kids talked me into going. Idiots dared me." He snorted. "Like I'd be chicken. It was kinda creepy, but I think I was more scared of Dad finding out."

Sam laughed softly. "I can imagine. What were you, five?"

"Yeah, and stupid." Dean rolled his eyes at himself. "We went out there at night and they tossed me in the funhouse. I would have been cool except one of the kids pulled off this fake ghost thing in the funhouse." He rolled his shoulders with the memory and laughed. "'bout made me pee my pants, Sammy. Scared me so bad I ran all the way home."

Sam chuckled and looked over at him. "I can't imagine you being afraid of anything when we were kids. You were always brave."

Dean felt a warm feeling spread through him and found he couldn't look at Sam just then. The lump of emotion in his throat was in danger of making him cry, knowing that his little brother had always had that sort of faith in him. "Not that time," he said gruffly instead.

Sam heard the tone in his voice and resisted the urge to poke at it. Sharing was never Dean's thing and even less so now. "Well, this time you'll be armed. You can gank any ghost we find."

Dean snorted a laugh. "Damn straight. Bet your ass I'm stayin' out of that funhouse though. You'd like it." He looked sideways at Sam and waggled his brows. "Lots of creepy ass clowns."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Sam rolled his eyes.

"I thought it was." Dean grinned. "You hungry? I'm hungry." He headed off the highway while Sam laughed and aimed for the old-school diner at the bottom of the ramp. It was one of those old converted trailers with grimy windows along the side. It looked like a tetanus shot waiting to happen, and Dean's mouth watered even as Sam groaned. He parked next to the other three cars in the lot and got out with a bounce in his step.

"I'm gonna need a stomach pump after this," Sam groaned with a laugh and went to the door. He flipped Dean off when he pulled the creaky door open for him with a flourish of his arm.

"Ladies first, Samantha." Dean laughed. He stepped in behind his brother and gasped as Sam suddenly crashed back into him, knocking them both into the wall beside the door and sending them sliding in a tangle to the floor. "Sam, what the hell?" He looked up and froze as he saw a man in a black ski mask standing over them, turning a rifle around to point at them. Dean looked down and felt white-hot rage boil through him at the sight of the reddening welt high on Sam's forehead. He was dazed and boneless against him.

"Don't move!" The masked gunman yelled.

Dean pushed up so he was sitting against the wall and pulled Sam in against him, steadying his head. "Sammy?" He whispered and pried up one of Sam's eyelids. His eyes were rolled back, and Dean growled as he glared up at the gunman.

"Hurry up!" The masked man turned his head to yell at the terrified waitress behind the counter at the register.

Dean took that moment to reach between himself and his brother. He pushed his hand under Sam's jacket at his back and found the familiar grip of Sam's Taurus. He pulled the pistol free and started sliding Sam away from him so he was sitting propped against the wall and the back of the booth beside them.

"I said don't fucking move!" The man yelled again.

Dean's smoldering green eyes rose up to meet his, and he smiled dangerously as the idiot flinched just from his gaze. "You want me to tell you what I do to assholes who hurt my brother?" He kept his hand with the gun behind Sam and waited for the right moment. The gunman took a step back, turned his head to look at the waitress again and the muzzle of the rifle swung slightly away, pointing at the empty booth. Dean brought his hand out from behind his brother and fired. The masked man screamed as the bullet ripped through his knee and fell to the floor. Dean was on him in an instant, kicking the rifle away and punched him solidly in the nose. Dean let him go, his head thumping senseless into the floor and stood up breathing heavily.

"Oh, my God." The waitress staggered back a step into the wall behind her as a man in a white apron came running from the back to wrap his arms around her.

"Sheila? You ok?"

Dean turned his back on them and went to his brother. "Hey, Sam." Dean held the side of his face and waited while Sam's eyes fluttered and finally opened as he groaned softly. He turned to look back at the waitress and the cook. "Someone might wanna call the cops." He could hear the other three patrons on the far side of the diner crying and talking animatedly.

"Dean?" Sam blinked up at him, confused. "Wha' hit me?"

"'bout two hundred pounds of stupid. You get up?" Dean eased an arm under his brother's shoulder at his nod and pulled him to his feet. "We gotta go. Place is gonna be crawling with cops in a minute."

"Next time, I'm…I'm picking the diner," Sam held his head while it spun.

"You're leaving?" The waitress, Sheila, asked in surprise as Dean kicked the door open. "But you shot him!"

"Yeah, and you can tell the cops," Dean called over his shoulder. "You're welcome."

Sam stumbled down the two steps outside, grateful for Dean's arm keeping him on his feet. He brushed fingers over the left side of his forehead above the temple and hissed as pain exploded. "Crap."

"Easy, tiger." Dean pulled him over to the Impala and opened the passenger door. "In you go." He closed the door once Sam got his legs inside and ran around to the driver's side, slid behind the wheel, and had them back on the road in under a minute. He floored it back to the highway and reached the black top as the first siren sounded in the distance. "Perfect timing."

"So, what…we walked into a robbery?" Sam pulled the sun visor down, shielding his eyes from the glare as it drove through his tender head.

"Winchester luck at work, little brother," Dean muttered. He looked over and grimaced as Sam flinched, pressing gingerly around the swelling welt from the rifle butt. "Head still in one piece?"

Sam nodded slowly, closing his eyes and put his head back. "Probably." He brought his head back up sharply, groaning as the seat seemed to move under him. "Was there a gunshot?" He turned to Dean and reached out trying to check for blood, but his brother slapped his hand away.

"Yes, there was a shot. No, it wasn't me." Dean grinned. "Asshat gunman's gonna need a new knee."

"Ouch," Sam said and allowed himself a small smile picturing it. "Hope he limps for the rest of his life."

"I'm still hungry," Dean grumbled and squeezed his hands tightly around the wheel to settle his nerves. It wasn't lost on him that the gunman could have simply shot Sam in the head rather than hitting him, and that realization was enough to make his knees weak. If Sam died, then his deal, his nightmares…it was all for nothing. He glanced over at Sam holding his head and very much alive beside him and allowed it to comfort him. It was worth it.

Sam pointed. "Sign for Biggerson's." He managed a smirk. "You're checking for men in masks before we go in."

Dean laughed, startled into it, and nodded. "Wouldn't want that egghead of yours to get cracked again."

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Dean drove through the outskirts of Wichita, Kansas, eying each motel as they passed and mentally discarding them for various reasons - no vacancy signs, churches next door, more churches next door. One that had three police cruisers with flashing lights parked in the lot was an instant dismissal. He finally settled on a promising motel with a bar on one side, a donut shop on the other, a mostly empty parking lot, and a decent-looking restaurant down the street.

"All the comforts of not home," Dean declared as he pulled in and parked, leaving the car idling.

Sam laughed at his description and picked his head up off the back of the seat where he'd been resting it. The pain was mostly gone, but the headache would no doubt linger the rest of the day and the bright afternoon sun was not helping. He closed his eyes and covered them against the glare while he waited. He wished they could go search the amusement park right then but, if he was right and it was a basilisk, they'd never find it. Basilisks were nocturnal creatures, and they had little chance of tracking down its nest in daylight.

"Got us the room on the end," Dean said as he got back in and pulled out, driving slowly down the long building to the last room. "Hopefully, we'll be the only noisy neighbors."

"Ok, that just sounds…wrong." Sam shook his head while Dean chuckled.

"Well, the manager _did_ offer me a king-size bed." Dean pulled up at the end of the building and parked. They fell into the easy routine of going to the trunk, getting their bags, and surreptitiously loading the weapons duffel while Sam kept an eye out, before closing the trunk and going to the room. Sam took the key and opened the door, stepped inside and snorted loudly. "What?"

"Dude." Sam moved aside and let Dean in ahead of him. The room had personality, Sam would give it that. The walls were painted a deep green, while the carpet was something Jess would have called 'seafoam' green. The bedspreads and the trim around the ceiling were bright blue. He could see from the door that the bathroom was also tiled in bright blue. The part that had made him laugh was the paintings lining the walls, ornate gold frames each holding a shadow portrait of unidentifiable people cut from black construction paper and carefully matted before being hung.

"It's like a color blind, five-year-old's art gallery," Dean said and shook his head as he tossed the bags on the near bed. He stared around at the portraits and smirked. "I think they're watching us."

Sam moved to close the door and then paused as he heard voices coming from the open door next to theirs. He leaned out as casually as he could and listened. They were housekeepers, two of them, eagerly discussing a news report that had just come out. "Damn." Sam went back in and pushed the door shut. "There's been another death at the park. According to the cleaning crew next door, sounds like another burning."

"Huh. We oughta hit up the local cop shop. Get a look at the crime scene photos." Dean dug through his bag and pulled out his suit. "Suit up, Sammy."

Sam nodded and took his bag over to his own bed, pulling his suit out while Dean went in the bathroom to change. He was more convinced than ever they were after a basilisk and it gave him hope.

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The police station was more of a substation, and it had taken them twenty minutes to track down the right one to go to. Only four officers sat or stood in the squad room and barely paid attention when two tall, suited men walked in.

"Agent Stokes. My partner Agent Bonaserra." Dean held up his FBI badge for the officer at the desk. "We're here about the deaths at the abandoned amusement park."

Sam surreptitiously stomped on his brother's foot for the name he'd given him, smiling when he grunted and smiled at the officer. "We need to see your files from the latest incident and any others you have. Please."

"Huh. Suppose it's about time the feds showed up." The officer looked them over and raised a brow at Sam. "You run into a wall?"

Dean laughed and slapped his brother on the back. "Suspect got a little out of hand yesterday. Let's go, Lumpy."

The officer snorted and waved them around the desk to a small room at the back of the station. "It's an open case so all the files are right here, what we've got anyway. Help yourselves. Coffeemaker's down the hall, but I wouldn't drink it."

Dean chuckled as he left and shoved the door closed while Sam took the lid off the box on the table. "Always trust a cop when it comes to coffee."

"Oh, man." Sam started laying out photos from the crime scene at the park. "This poor kid got roasted." He glanced over the attached report. "Teenager. Can't tell from these."

Dean took one of the pictures and grimaced. "Crispy critter."

Sam put one photo closer and tilted it to get a better look. "Huh."

"What?" Dean peered over his shoulder.

"The report says these are chunks of stone, but…" Sam squinted and then widened his eyes, pointing. "Dean, that's a thumb." He looked over at his brother. "It's not stone. It's the kids missing arm…shattered into stone."

"Ok, now I'm listening." Dean took the photo and looked closely at what he could now see had obviously been a hand and arm. On one particular piece of rubble, he could actually see petrified veins. "Wow. That had to suck. Poor kid."

"I've got the survivor's address." Sam jotted it down in his notes quickly from the report. "We should go talk to her. She might have seen it. It was near dawn when she was attacked. She might have an idea where its lair is."

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-** _

Dean pulled up outside the home of Lenore Murphy and shivered. "I hate suburbia. It's friggin' creepy."

Sam got out with a laugh. "You think everything's creepy."

"Everything is." Dean shrugged and led the way up the sidewalk to the pleasant, white little house. He stepped up onto the porch and sighed. "This doesn't look good." Two days of newspapers and mail were stacked in an untidy pile in front of the door. He stood and rang the doorbell while Sam knocked.

Sam moved to one of the windows and looked in. The living room was orderly and dark. "Maybe she's not home?"

Dean pointed to the garage and the open door. "Her car's here. Anyone looking?" He saw Sam shake his head and bent to the lock, pulling out a set of lockpicks. He made quick work of it and shoved the door open. "Come on."

Sam followed him in and shut the door, then took out his pistol. "Something's wrong."

"Yeah, no kidding," Dean said, flipping through a CD tower next to the television. "Who even buys Abba albums?"

"Dude. Missing woman?" Sam gave him a bitch-face and headed for the stairs. "She was injured. Maybe she's in bed." He strained his ears for any sound as he climbed the stairs and heard nothing. It was a little disturbing. "Ms. Murphy?" Sam called as he reached the top and turned to look down the short hall. "Lenore? We're federal agents." He looked back at his brother.

Dean shrugged. "Well, either she's not here or she sleeps like the dead." He smirked and stepped around Sam, going down the hall. He stuck his in the first door on the right and found a small bedroom with a bare bed. "Guest room, I guess."

Sam went to the next door and pushed it open. His eyes widened and he stared in surprise. "Dean." He put his gun away and walked to the wide bed. Lenore Murphy lay on her bed and was quite dead.

"Holy crap," Dean breathed. She looked like a statue that someone had dressed in a nightgown. The white fabric covered her torso but left her arms and legs bare, and they were the dark grey of stone…except for her right arm which sported a small bandage taped in place.

Sam reached down and carefully peeled the bandage off her arm. It concealed two deep punctures frozen in stone and he looked up to her face…forever locked in a silent scream of agony.

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_To Be Continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER 2** _

"My god," Sam whispered. "This is…horrific." He looked at Lenore's face, at her expression, and there was no denying that she hadn't died easily. She had died slowly in monstrous pain as her body solidified.

"Yeah. Let's go." Dean took his arm and gave him a shove out of the room and away from the stone woman. Even his jaded view of death was dented by the sight. "We don't want to be caught here if someone decides to come looking for her. This is way too weird to explain."

Sam went without argument, retracing their path down and out to the car. He stared out the passenger window as they pulled away and said a silent apology to Lenore Murphy for not reaching her in time. Yet, the part of his mind obsessed with saving his brother felt that little sliver of hope grow as they now had solid proof there was a basilisk.

"Note to self: Don't get bit." Dean glared out at the road and headed back to the motel. "We need to make sure we know how to kill this damn thing."

Sam nodded. "There's a lot of lore to sift through. I'll find it."

They drove in silence to the motel and entered their room sobered by what they had seen. "Calling Bobby," Dean said as Sam sat in front of his laptop and booted it up. He pulled out his phone and dialed, pacing across the room. "Hey, Bobby. We got two more bodies on the ground here, and, man…they were turned to stone. Sam was right. It's a basilisk."

Bobby sighed and ran a hand through his hair under his cap. "You sure about this, son?" It wasn't that he didn't trust Sam. It was more that he didn't relish the idea of them going after something that damn deadly. It made him nervous.

"Dammit, Bobby. She was a damn statue! Sammy nailed this one." Dean said angrily and took a breath to calm himself. "Sorry."

"Well, hell. That'll teach me to doubt that boy's research skills." Bobby chuckled. "Alright, I've got some stuff here somewhere on the things."

"Sam's finding us a way to kill the thing now, but I got another question." Dean glanced over at Sam and then out the window. "Is there an antidote for this thing's bite?"

"Balls. Has to be." Bobby surged out of his chair and to his bookshelves as concern flowed through him. "'Course, not gettin' bit would be a good idea."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, got that much from the last two victims. It wasn't pretty, Bobby," Dean said softly. "The woman? She did not go easy."

"I'll find it. Gotta be one, or half of Europe would'a been turned into statues back in the day." Bobby assured him.

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean flipped his phone closed and looked over at his brother. "You got anything?"

Sam nodded with a small smile. He'd enjoyed hearing Dean defend him. Much as he loved Bobby, it had pricked his pride to have someone whose skills he respected dismiss his theory. "Killing it's actually fairly simple; behead, salt and burn." He shrugged and leaned back. "The hard part is getting anywhere near a basilisk without being killed. Poison bite, which is also excreted from its skin, toxic breath, which is, apparently, highly flammable, and it has a supersonic screech."

"Awesome. So, cakewalk." Dean shook his head at Sam's short laugh.

"Well, there are a couple things that will disorient it." Sam turned the laptop around to face his brother. "According to the lore, the scent of a weasel and the sound of a rooster crowing will make it momentarily helpless."

Dean bent to skim over the articles with his brows raised. "Are you serious? This can't be real. Weasel stink and a friggin' rooster call?"

"We've seen weirder," Sam shrugged. He stood and pulled his jacket back on. "I found the address for an occult store in town. I should be able to find…weasel scent there." He went to his bag and dug through it. He pulled his iPod out with a smirk. "You can find us the sound of a rooster crowing. Put it on here. I have an external speaker we can use."

Dean took the iPod between his thumb and forefinger as though it were dirty and sneered at it. "Oh, goodie. I get to play with the douche-pod."

Sam handed him a cord. "USB plug. Hook it right into the laptop."

"I know what a USB is, geek-boy." Dean glared at him and waved an arm. "Go on, get out of here before I beat you. And don't scratch my baby!"

Sam laughed and headed for the door. "Back in an hour." He snagged the keys off the table and left Dean giving the evil-eye to his iPod as he closed the door. He liked driving the Impala, but it always made him feel…smaller; younger. He pulled out of the parking lot and glanced into the passenger seat feeling as though he were sitting in the wrong place. The thought squeezed his heart painfully, realizing that in too few short months, he would be driving for good if he couldn't find a way to save Dean.

"Stop it," Sam muttered at himself, clenching his hands around the wheel. "Not gonna happen." He made the drive to the occult store with that a constant mantra in his head. He was so focused on that, he missed it the first time and had to turn back, glad Dean wasn't there to call him out for the distraction. He parked in front of the little shop and climbed out. It looked more like a house that had been overtaken by a shop, the windows clogged with sun-catchers of every variety. The house itself was painted a dark shade of purple, and Sam looked at the garden along the walk with interest and surprise. Some of the herbs he could see and identify were poisonous.

He opened the front door and had to duck under the multitude of chimes attached to it as they jangled and rang, announcing his arrival. The interior was as cluttered as the outside had looked. "Hello?"

"Be right with you!" A woman's voice called from somewhere in the back.

Sam had to turn sideways to step between a shelf of books and an amethyst geode almost as tall as he was. He smirked looking at, seeing that he could almost stand inside it; and, for a moment, the child in him wanted to just because.

"Oh, my, you're tall."

Sam turned and smiled at a young, attractive woman who came up beside him. "Family trait. Hello there."

"Hi. Welcome to Miss Margerie's House of the Occult." She held out a heavily beringed hand and Sam took it in a gentle grip. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, I need to find something to mimic the scent of a weasel," Sam told her and blushed slightly when she laughed.

"Weasel? Really?" Margerie chuckled. "Lucky you I can help with that. Come on. Back here."

Sam followed her and her bobbing, black ring curls further back into the store. He smiled each time she had to stop and twitch her skirts off something they caught on in the crowded shop.

"Here we are." Margerie waved her hands at a wall of small jars. "Odors are fairly popular in modern witchcraft, hexes and that sort of thing."

"Witchcraft?" Sam asked, looking at all the bottles with their rubber stoppers and ingredients inscribed in Latin on the front of each one.

"Well, not _real_ witchcraft of course." Margerie laughed prettily. "But you know, all those bored housewives who watch The Craft and decide to play. You don't strike me as one of those."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "No. It's a…weird scavenger hunt thing. I got stuck with this one."

"Ah, that's a new one." Margerie looked along the shelves and picked one off. "Here you go. Scent of the rampant weasel. I'm not really sure what makes it rampant, but there you are." She handed the little bottle to him. "That'll be ten dollars please."

"Of course." Sam fished his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a ten, handing it to her. "You're sure this is the real deal?"

"Oh, yes. I'd lose my bored housewife business pretty quick if I started selling them colored water." Margerie chuckled. "Besides, I have the family pride to think of. My grandmother was supposed to be a witch." She raised a hand. "An actual witch, mind you. Real deal."

"Really?" Sam smiled, though warning bells went off in his head. "You follow the practice too?"

"Oh, goodness no." Margerie ducked her head. "But the shop makes good money. People love this stuff."

"Right. Uh, thank you." Sam gave her another smile and turned to head back out, easing around the cluttered aisles and shelves.

"You're welcome." Margerie followed behind him, enjoying the view with a small smile. "You know, there are really only a few things the scent of a weasel is used for. You should be careful."

Sam turned and smiled at the door. "It's a scavenger hunt. As long as I don't spill it on myself I'll be fine."

"Well, be careful on your hunt." Margerie smiled again and then ducked away back into the shop.

"Huh. That was weird." Sam jogged back down the path to the car and set the little jar carefully on the seat. "So much for the easy part."

Sam pulled up back at the motel in just under the hour he'd told Dean. He climbed out of the Impala and gave the hood a pat with a smirk as he passed, knowing that his big brother would give her the once over no matter how he insisted he hadn't gotten a mark on it. He unlocked the door and opened it to find his big brother leaning back with a small collection of mini alcohol bottles on the table in front of him.

"Next time, YOU get the damn audio file." Dean raised a little bottle of vodka and emptied it. "My ears are bleeding listening to stupid roosters crow for a damn hour."

Sam chuckled and shut the door. "Well, if you're demolishing the mini-bar, I'm guessing you got it."

Dean threw an empty bottle his way and then tossed the iPod to him. "One loud cock ready to go."

Sam groaned as Dean laughed. "You're not funny."

"I'm hilarious," Dean retorted with a laugh and stood. "And hungry. We've got three more hours 'til nightfall. I say we kill it with food."

"Yeah, actually I could eat." Sam went to his bag and pulled out the little speaker. "Found the weasel scent too, so we're good to go tonight."

Dean pulled on his jacket and opened the room door then went out to his car. Sam followed him and rolled his eyes, snorting a soft laugh.

"Dude, it's fine. Not so much as a scratch," Sam told him and could only grin as Dean made a full circuit around the Impala before finally looking up at Sam.

"Good boy." Dean grinned.

"I am not a dog," Sam groaned.

Dean laughed and started for the sidewalk; He'd had a few and the restaurant was only a block and a half down the road. "Can't believe you found a store that stocks weasel funk."

"Occult store. She had a whole wall of different scents." Sam walked easily beside him. "You would have liked her."

"Her?" Dean looked over at him with a raised brow and a smirk. "Cute, was she, Sammy?"

"Shut up." Sam felt his face warm and deliberately increased his pace, leaving Dean to catch up.

"So, very cute. Interesting." Dean elbowed him in the side, highly amused. "Gonna have to find a reason for you to go back there. You need your pipes cleaned, dude."

"Dean!" Sam's blush burned brighter and he washed a hand down his face in a bid for patience.

Dean just laughed harder. "We gotta find a way to yank that stick outta your ass, Sam."

Sam punched his brother's shoulder, forcing him over a step and shrugged when Dean glared at him. "Slipped."

"Only reason I don't bust your ass up and down this street right now is I'm dyin' of starvation." Dean growled at him and then grinned as they crossed the restaurant parking lot. He pulled open the door and stuck his head inside before looking back at Sam. "No masked men in sight."

Sam shook his head and went inside. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replied cheerfully.

Dinner was actually surprisingly good and Sam sat back, turning to watch his big brother on the other side of the restaurant. Dean had found a pool table and a willing victim who was, even now, being hustled out of his last fifty bucks. Sam smirked. Dean may tease Sam about his puppy dog eyes, but his big brother could pull out all the stops with his innocent face when he needed to. Most of the time, the people he marked had no clue they were being hustled until it was far too late, and, by then, saving face demanded they take it gracefully.

"Twice in one day. I'm having a good day."

Sam whipped his head around at the familiar voice and looked up into Margerie's face. "Oh, hi. What are…"

"I eat here most nights." Margerie smiled and sat in the booth opposite him. She rested her chin on her clasped hands and peered at him. "You know my name."

"Oh, right." Sam smiled sheepishly. "Sam. I'm Sam."

"Nice to meet you, Sam I'm Sam."

Sam chuckled. "Just Sam."

Margerie laughed and nodded. "I was going to come over here and give you my phone number, but…" She leaned back and nodded to the pool table. "…then I saw you watching the only other hot guy in here and, Sam, I almost cried."

"What?" Sam looked over to where his brother was playing and somehow managing to have both eyes on him at the same time. He raised his hands. "Whoa, no. That's…I mean we're not…he's my brother."

"Brother? Really!" Margerie's face lit up with her smile, and she leaned back toward him. "In that case…" She reached into the neckline of her blouse and came out with a business card. She slid it across the table to him. "You should really call me before you leave, Sam." She stood and moved next to him, curling a hand casually around the back of his neck and tangled her fingers in the overlong hair. "Please call me."

Sam's mouth went dry as he smiled up at her and nodded. "I, uh…I'll try."

Margerie pulled lightly on his hair. "There is no try, Sam."

Sam laughed as she released him and walked away. "Wow." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and blushed furiously. Seeing Dean grinning at him from the pool table made his face burn hotter, and he dropped his head. "Oh, man."

Dean chuckled softly as he bent to line up his next shot. He never got tired of seeing Sam flustered by a pretty woman, and the little, curly-haired hottie had just done a number on his little brother's hormones.

"You gonna shoot or take a nap?"

Dean tilted his head to look up at the man he was currently schooling and smiled. "Nervous?" They both knew if he managed to sink the next two balls, the game was done. Dean bent back to the felt, lined up his shot with a grin, and flicked his stick. The cue ball shot across the table and knocked one ball into the corner before ricocheting back and tapping his other into the side. He straightened and grinned. "Pay up."

"Geez." The man shook his head and groaned. "Why do I feel like I got played?" He pulled fifty dollars from his pocket and held it out.

Dean took it with a gracious smile. "Honest win, my friend. Thanks for the game." He grabbed his beer from the table, raised it to the man and headed across the restaurant to his brother. "Saw you gettin' your game on over here, Sammy, and damn she was smokin'!"

"I wasn't getting my game on." Sam rolled his eyes. "She just happened to be eating here and recognized me. That was Margerie, uh…the woman who runs the occult store."

"Hot Marge. Sexy Marge." Dean chuckled and patted Sam's shoulder. "You better take a run at that before we leave town, dude."

Sam dropped his head with another groan. "Can we not discuss my sex life?"

"What sex life?" Dean laughed and then shrugged. "Fine, come on. Sun went down an hour ago. Let's go bag a basilisk."

"Oh, thank God." Sam got up while Dean tossed some of his winnings on the table. "Rather hunt a poisonous serpent than get dating advice from the great American gigolo."

Dean burst out a laugh at that. "Who said date?" He strode past his spluttering brother and opened the door, going out before Sam could elbow him in the gut.

"You know we may have to go underground to find this thing, right?" Sam asked as they started across the parking lot. "There are miles of maintenance tunnels under the amusement park. That's probably where its nest is."

"Great!" Dean kicked the tire of one of the trucks parked at the edge of the lot. "I hate tunnels."

Sam laughed and fell in behind him, slapping the back of his shoulder. "We'll bring the big flashlight."

"Don't humor me, jackass." Dean growled.

"At least there aren't any shapeshifters this time." Sam smirked, happy to have irritated him after Dean's teasing inside." He tripped and stumbled, catching hold of the hood of the truck. "Damn." He looked down to see what he'd tripped on.

"What?" Dean turned around, heard a hiss and saw the blink of red eyes from beneath the body of the truck. "Sam!" He grabbed his brother's arm as Sam gasped and yanked him behind him to land on the ground in a heap. Dean took out his gun and took aim but the dark head he had seen had vanished. He got down on one knee and bent cautiously to look beneath it. Seeing nothing, he rose and circled the truck. On the other side was a sewer grate lying askew from where it belonged. "Son of a bitch!"

"Dean."

Dean spun, hearing something in Sam's voice that made his blood go cold. "Sammy?" He went and knelt beside him as Sam pushed himself up and fell back with a gasp.

"Right leg…above the knee." Sam panted, trying to control the pain that suddenly burned in his leg. "Don't…don't touch…anything. Venom."

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_To Be Continued…._


	3. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER 3** _

Dean moved so the streetlamp gave him light to see by, and he sucked in a breath. There was a tear in the denim above Sam's knee, and he could see blood and some other viscous, green substance glistening. "Shit. Ok. Gotta get you up."

Sam nodded and raised an arm. He let Dean pull him up and leaned heavily on him, limping as quickly as he could toward the motel. He knew it was only a block away now, but it suddenly seemed so much farther. "Don't think it's a bite,"

"You'll be fine," Dean assured him, as much for his own sake as Sam's, and hitched his brother higher on his shoulder. "Why'd it jump us here? Damn thing hasn't left the amusement park before. Why now?"

"Maybe…maybe someone's controlling it and whoever brought it here pegged us for Hunters." Sam's voice caught a bit as he fought the moan that tried to inch its way out of him. The pain above his knee was an indescribable burning sensation.

"Or the damn thing could smell us," Dean growled. "Knows we're coming to gank it."

Sam sucked in a breath and closed his eyes against the searing pain. "This is what happened to her…to Lenore," He whispered. "That look on her face, Dean…"

"Don't think about it," Dean told him firmly. "That's not gonna happen to you." He believed that. He had to, because what was the point in selling his soul if Sam died anyway? He tightened his grip around Sam's waist, feeling the tremors that were beginning to course through his brother's body. Lenore's face had been eloquent; the petrification process was agony. "Take it easy. Almost there."

"I'm ok," Sam's voice was low, ragged, along with his breathing.

Dean carried him to the door, fumbling the key in the lock and opening it. "Ok. Here we go. Almost." He pulled Sam around to the far bed and eased him down to the sit on the side, then knelt in front of him. "Alright, lemme have a look."

Sam kept himself upright by sheer force of will while Dean took a knife to the leg of his jeans and cut them open above his knee. He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide away from the agony. Seeing the wound above his knee didn't help. "Crap." The skin was red with more than blood, swelling slightly, and he could see sickly grey lines flaring out from the edges of the small gash in the skin. Really, as far as wounds went, it was minor, a deep scratch, but the venom…

Dean bit his tongue, fighting back his own fear, and cut the leg off Sam's jeans, being careful to not touch the drops of venom he could see clinging to the fabric. He made a slit down to the cuff and pulled it out from under his leg. then tossed it in the trash can. "I'll burn it later so no one accidentally touches it. We need to clean this." He slid an arm under Sam's shoulders and levered him back up and toward the bathroom. "Just breathe, Sam." Outwardly, he kept his cool. Inwardly, he was screaming with panic. "Ok, sit." He lowered Sam to the toilet, considered for a moment, and then maneuvered his leg up and over the edge of the tub.

"Need to c-call Bobby," Sam managed between clenched teeth.

"Going to, but I wanna clean this out first." Dean bent and turned on the taps in the tub. He looked up as Sam's leg gave a violent twitch, and the look on his brother's face was nothing short of outright fear. "Sammy?"

Sam couldn't explain it. The feeling that struck him as water began to fall into the tub and wash over his toes…it was terror; abject terror. He wanted to run. His grip on the towel bar above him was so tight the metal screeched. "Dean. The water."

"What about it? Dude, what's going on?" Dean rose and pried Sam's white- knuckled grip from the bar. "You gotta talk to me."

Sam swallowed hard and shook his head. "J-just clean it. Fast." He closed his eyes and grabbed hold of the towel bar again to brace himself against the fear he didn't understand.

Dean frowned. "Just take a minute." He shook his head and reached to the sink, taking one of the little cups and unwrapping it. He used it to pour water over Sam's leg, watching the dots of venom still on his skin wash away with the bloody water. Sam's whole body was trembling and broken out in a sweat. A look at his face told Dean Sam was biting his lip with his eyes clamped shut to let him finish. Dean didn't waste time trying to figure it out. He cleaned the wound as quickly as he could, trying to ignore Sam's pained gasps whenever the water touched him. When he was sure he had it all, he turned off the taps and Sam heaved a great breath and collapsed over into the wall.

"Thanks," Sam whispered.

Dean pulled the towel down and quickly dried his leg. "Back to bed." He pulled Sam back up and moved out and back to the bed, doing his best not to look at the vivid red drops of blood on the bright blue tile of the bathroom floor.

"Sorry." Sam opened his eyes as he sat. "I dunno what…something about the w-water."

"Alright, I'm callin' Bobby." Dean took out his phone and dialed while he dug the medical kit from his bag and set it on the bed beside Sam. "Bobby. We need that antidote now."

"Well, if you got a victim bit, I can whip it up and have it there in maybe seven or eight hours, but…"

"Bobby, it's Sam." Dean cut across him and heard the sharp intake of breath before the silence. "It's not a bite; more like it cut him, but he's poisoned."

"Six hours. I can be there in six," Bobby said finally. "How close is the wound to his heart?"

"It's his leg, above the knee." Dean bent and helped Sam put his leg up on the bed. "Lay back already. That good or bad?"

"Good," Bobby said firmly. "Farther away the wound is from the heart, the longer you have. Probably got a good twelve hours before he's in real danger. Keep him still. Keep him calm."

"Bobby…"

"I know calm ain't gonna be easy, son, but you have to." Bobby said quickly. He was already up and rifling through the cabinets in his kitchen after the ingredients he'd need. "I need to start this now."

"Wait. Why would Sam suddenly be afraid of running water?" Dean asked as he sat beside Sam's leg and looked at his pale face. "He pretty much freaked out when I tried to wash the wound out."

"Oh, balls! Hydrophobia." Bobby groaned. "That cut must be a glancin' blow from a fang. Uh, basilisk bites cause extreme hydrophobia in victims. Probably helps keep 'em from takin' the antidote if it's available."

"How you figure that?" Dean scowled as Sam twitched and hissed out a breath. "Easy, buddy," He murmured soothingly, reaching up and gently brushing a strand of dark hair out of Sam's face.

"Because the antidote has to be poured in water and the victim immersed." Bobby sighed and leaned on the counter for a sec. "This ain't gonna be pretty for any of us, and Sam won't be able to help himself. Now, just…you keep him alive til I get there, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir. What about a tourniquet? Could tie it off above the wound." Dean met the stab of fear in Sam's eyes; a tourniquet could irreparably damage his leg if left too long.

"Wouldn't stop it," Bobby said firmly. "The venom's supernatural in nature. I'll be there in six hours, Dean. I promise."

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean flipped the phone closed and tossed it on the other bed, taking a deep breath.

"What'd Bobby say?" Sam asked quietly.

"He'll be here in about six hours with the antidote." Dean smiled and patted his good knee. "You're gonna be fine."

"Don't f-feel fine." Sam opened his eyes again and looked down as Dean bent over his thigh and the wound.

Dean had to work hard to keep the fear from his face and his voice. The poison was slowly progressing. He could see where the disturbing grey lines had already spread at least half an inch further from the wound. As he watched, they grew longer and Sam jerked, choking on a sob of pain.

"Shit!" Dean took his shoulder and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. "Breathe, Sammy. Easy."

"Hurts…hurts when it s-spreads," Sam felt a tear escape from the corner of his eye and couldn't find the energy to be embarrassed about it.

"I know, buddy. I know." Dean held on to Sam while he rode out the agony and suffered with him. When it was done, Sam slid back against the headboard, gasping for air. "Bobby said we gotta keep you calm and still until he gets here."

Sam snorted a weak laugh. "Might be a problem."

"Yeah, I know." Dean smiled in spite of the situation. "If I thought you'd stay on your ass, I'd go up to that damn park, find this bastard, and gank it tonight."

Sam's eyes shot open and he grabbed hold of Dean. "No! You can't go without me. I need to be there. Promise me!"

"Whoa, Sam! What the hell?" Dean pulled his brother's hand free of his arm and scowled. "Look, pretty sure you're out of this. Bobby can come finish it with me."

"No. Dean, please!" Sam could feel his last chance slipping away from him. If he wasn't there, they wouldn't know to take its eye, and he wouldn't be able to perform the ritual. "I'm going with you. I'll be f-fine once I get the antidote."

"Sam, this is not up for discussion. You're sidelined," Dean said firmly but Sam didn't give in.

"No." Sam pushed at Dean until he moved and swung his leg to the floor. "I can do this. I have to."

"No, you don't. Sam, sit the hell down." Dean took his shoulder to keep him on the bed even as Sam pushed at him. "Sam!" He won the tug of war and pushed his little brother back against the headboard so he was sitting. "You wanna tell me what the hell this is? Why are you so hot to be there when we kill this thing? It's gonna burn no matter what."

Sam sucked in a few breaths, trying to find calm. He looked up at Dean's face and knew he'd blown it. There was no way he was getting away with not explaining now. He knew that obstinate look. "Dean…" Sam sighed and looked down at his leg. "I…I need a piece of the basilisk."

"Ok, you wanna elaborate? Like I'm stupid." Dean glared, knowing already he wasn't going to like what he heard.

"I found a spell. It's old." Sam kept his eyes down, unwilling to risk seeing Dean's face yet. "There's a lot of strange ingredients, but the most important…is the eye of a basilisk."

"Spell…for what?" Dean asked softly.

"To bind a person's soul to their body…forever. It could save you." Sam finally looked up at him with that small ray of hope he'd been living off of glinting in his eyes. "Dean, they can't take you if they can't get your soul. I can stop it. We can save you."

Dean stared at him as the anger built. He had to let go of Sam's shoulder before he hurt him. "Do you get that if we violate my deal, you're dead? They'll kill you, Sam, on the spot. No questions, no discussion. You. Just. Die. Do you get that?" Dean's voice rose with each word as he bit them off. "They can still kill me, Sam! I'll be just as dead, but, what…stuck here forever? Trapped with my body forever? No hell and no heaven, no nothing! What the hell are you thinking?" He rose and paced across the room, needing the distance.

"This will work," Sam wasn't willing to give up.

"No, it won't! Dammit, Sam!" Dean turned to glare at him. "You're not doing this. We're killing that thing and it's going to burn…all of it. Period. I am NOT risking you. That's my decision, Sam. Mine."

"Dean, look…" Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

"No, Sam. We're not talking about this," Dean growled at him.

"Dean…"

"Shut up, Sam."

"Dean, please…"

"What part of shut the hell up ain't getting through to you?" Dean shouted and glared his brother into silence. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to ignore the sheen of moisture that sprang up in Sam's eyes as he turned away. Dean breathed heavily through his nostrils for a moment then turned and planted his fist into the wall with a satisfying crunch as the plaster crumpled.

Silence reigned in the motel room for several minutes before Sam finally braved it. "Feel better?"

"Fuck," Dean muttered and cradled his hand as he closed his eyes.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam said softly. In his fervor to find a way to save his brother, he'd never really considered the fact that his plan would likely result in his own death. The demon had promised Dean that if he tried to wiggle out of it, she would kill Sam. The idea of dying himself didn't really bother him; not if Dean got to live but…he took a slow breath. Dean was right; once the demon realized she couldn't get his soul, she'd probably just kill Dean too. The hopelessness flowed back into him, sucking away his energy. Sam gasped as the wound sent a new wave of agony coursing through him.

"Sammy?" Dean watched him gasp and start to curl over. He ran to the bed and caught him before he could roll off the bed. "Hey, hey. Come on." Sam had his hand low on his stomach. "Sam?" Dean pushed his hand away and pulled up the hem of his shirt. "Shit!" The grey lines of the poison were progressing and appearing over the waist of his jeans.

"Dean," Sam moaned in a gut desire for comfort.

"I've gotcha." Dean eased him back so he was sitting. He put his hand down on Sam's knee and startled badly. "What the hell?" He shifted so he could see his brother's leg and his eyes widened in horror. The skin in an area of about three inches around had turned to solid grey. It was stone. Dean could see every line of muscle, vein and hair as though they were chiseled into marble. He was petrifying before Dean's eyes. "Oh, God, Sammy," The words were no more than a whisper and he caught Sam against him as he passed out from the pain.

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Bobby drove like a man possessed. He was breaking every speed limit and hoped his luck would hold all the way to Wichita. He was wearing his suit and had an FBI badge ready to go in case it didn't and some zealous cop decided to pull him over. He'd told Dean six hours. Given the way he'd ignored the speed limits he was looking at getting there in five if he didn't get stopped. He was so close now. Every hour's passing made him twitch with fear for Sam. He'd read the lore; he had a decent idea how bad it was going to be for the kid while they waited for him and the antidote.

On the floor of the seat beside him, he had the antidote carefully packed in a bucket. He wasn't looking forward to using it. Everything he'd read said the venom imposed hydrophobia would make victims go wild and sometimes violent in their efforts to avoid water. Sam was going to fight them whether he wanted to or not. The more terrifying aspect of the whole thing was that agitation and movement hastened the venom's spread. They could conceivably kill him trying to cure him.

"Not gonna happen," Bobby growled softly as he drove and pressed the gas down, speeding up a little more. The lights of Wichita showed as he turned a bend and he breathed a sigh. He slowed marginally as he crossed into the city limits, but only slightly. It was almost four in the morning; there wasn't any traffic to speak of. The sound of Dean's voice and its forced calm with Sam's muffled sounds of pain in the background had been his constant companions on the drive. He scrubbed a hand over his face as his vision blurred for a second.

"Suck it up, Singer," Bobby ordered himself angrily. Dean had called him a few hours back to tell him about Sam's plan, and Bobby couldn't fault the kid. Hell, if he'd found the spell, he'd have been tempted too, but he agreed with Dean; trading Sam's life for his brother's wasn't a plan. He spotted the sign for their motel and squealed into the parking lot, parking beside the distinctive muscle car. He was out in a flash and the door opened before he reached it.

"Bobby. Am I glad to see you." Dean smiled thinly at their adoptive father.

"How's he doin'?" Bobby watched Dean scrub his hands through hair already spiky from the same thing too many times.

"Better if you just have a look," Dean's voice was tired, and he waved him into the room before going back to his brother.

Bobby stared as he neared the far bed, and all the saliva dried in his mouth. "Balls," He breathed. Sam lay on the bed shaking and twitching with pain. His right leg was unmistakably turned to stone halfway down his calf and up under what was left of the leg of his jeans. The lines of venom had appeared above the waist of his jeans and Bobby almost wished Dean had left his shirt on so he couldn't see the progression of angry lines inching up Sam's stomach toward his chest.

"Hey…Bobby." Sam's voice was weak and ragged as he cracked his eyes and saw the older hunter standing over him.

"Hey, yourself, Sam." Bobby reached down and clasped a hand around Sam's sweat covered neck. "Gonna get you fixed up in no time. You just hang in a little longer." He got a weary nod in response and smiled. "That's my boy. Dean." Bobby turned and gave himself a shake. "Fill the tub. I'll get the antidote."

"Already did that an hour ago," Dean informed him and shrugged. "Figured I'd save us a step."

"Good thinkin'." Bobby clapped a hand to his shoulder and headed back out to his truck.

Dean went and sat down next to his brother. The last five hours had been tortuous for them both; Sam as the spurts of agony made him scream senseless, and Dean as he held him through the episodes, forced to watch the venom's progression in his brother's skin and to listen to the agony his brother was going through, completely helpless to do anything to ease his suffering. He was grateful there were no other guests near them or Sam's screams would surely have brought the police by now. He took Sam's arms and pulled him up so he was resting against his chest with his head on his shoulder. "You ready, kiddo?"

Sam nodded weakly into his brother's neck. "Yeah." He could feel the basilisk's venom burning through him like molten metal. It was getting ready to spread again; the sensation before the stone grew was becoming recognizable. "S'coming again."

"Ok. I gotcha." Dean wrapped his arms around him at Sam's whisper. "Bobby?" He called. "Get in here quick and shut the door!"

Bobby came in carrying the bucket and kicked the door shut behind him. "What's goin' on?"

"It's about to spread again." Dean looked up at him and tightened his grip. "It's bad." He felt the tremors running through his brother pick up strength and grimaced. "Here it comes."

Bobby set the bucket down and went to the bed. He took careful hold of Sam's left leg as it started to kick. "Easy, son. You're gonna be ok." He flinched as the first scream tore itself from Sam's throat. It was raw and half choked, muffled only by Dean's shoulder.

Sam couldn't have spoken if he wanted to. The agony ripped through him and stole his breath, yet somehow he managed to scream. He'd fought it in the beginning and bitten his own lip bloody in the process. There were no words to describe the knowledge that things inside of you were turning to stone. He could actually feel them becoming solid and heavy. He'd lost the ability to move his right leg hours ago; and as the venom reached the base of his spine, he could no longer walk. He screamed again into his brother's shoulder, and only the feeling of Dean's hand clamped to the back of his head gave him any comfort.

Bobby gasped as he watched the stone creep further down Sam's calf and then stop. "God."

Dean just nodded, robbed of speech as he held his brother and felt Sam's hands gripped in the back of his shirt like vices. "Take it easy, Sammy," Dean said hoarsely into his ear. He could feel it easing as Sam went heavy against him sobbing air in and out.

Bobby leaned back and wiped at the few tears that had escaped his control. "I'll get it ready." He said gruffly and quickly picked up the bucket and went into the bathroom. He needed a minute to collect himself. He took out one of the bottles and uncorked it, pouring it into the tub full of water. It hissed softly, the green mixture moved through the water as if alive until it was all green and glowing slightly. He took a deep breath, settling his nerves and went back out. They were where he'd left them. Dean still held Sam against him and the sight of Sam's hands holding bunches of his big brother's shirt was enough to choke him up.

Bobby cleared his throat and went to them. "Tub's ready. Let's get him in." He glanced at Dean seriously. "We might want to restrain him before we try this. He's gonna fight hard."

Dean's flinty gaze met his with a solid shake of his head. "No. We're not doing that to him. We can handle it."

Bobby nodded. "Had to suggest it. Sorry, son." He leaned down so he could see Sam's face as it turned up slightly. "Sam? Look, none of what happens next is your fault, son. It's the poison workin' in ya."

Sam nodded, too weary for words. Dean had explained it to him, and he knew the hydrophobia was going to make him fight being cured. He tried to tell himself he could fight it, that he wouldn't go crazy trying to get away, but the look of sorrow on Bobby's face told him otherwise.

"Just…get it over with," Sam said after a moment and closed his eyes.

"Ok, buddy. Here we go." Dean stood and Sam's arms around him brought his brother with him. Bobby slipped in behind Sam to help steady him. He eased Sam's legs off the bed, grimacing as his right thumped to the floor with a sound far louder than it should have been. "Sorry."

"We gotta hurry, Dean." Bobby pulled one of Sam's hands from his brother's back and pulled the arm over his own shoulder. The lines of poison spreading up his bare back were frightening and getting far too near his heart for the older man's peace of mind. They made it as far as the bathroom door before it started.

Sam looked up, seeing the bathtub filled with greenly glowing liquid, and the terror rushed through him like wildfire. "N…no. No!" He couldn't stop himself. He tried to throw himself free of Dean and Bobby, but their grip was firm as they dragged him, begging, into the room.

"Sam, it's ok. Just…ow." Dean grunted as his brother's thrashing knocked him into the wall. "Probably should have gotten the rest of his jeans off first, huh?"

Bobby snorted, appreciating the attempt at levity. "Won't matter." He strained to hold Sam. The kid was more muscle than anything, all 6-foot-4 of him. Bobby fondly remembered the days when Sam had been a short, gangly teenager; all the times his big brother had come through the front door with Sam tossed over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Now, even with the venom working through him, he was a bundle of contained strength.

"Stop, stop!" Sam wanted to kick, to run, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He shoved and pulled, trying to free his arms, but their grip on him was steely. He knew it was irrational. Sam wanted to stop fighting, but he couldn't stop the fear that drove him to get away from the water. His heart was pounding so loud it was deafening, and he felt the venom begin to move faster. "No! Dean!"

"It's alright, Sam. Gonna be alright." Dean gritted his teeth and took all of Sam's thrashing weight so Bobby could bend and get his legs in the tub one at a time. The touch of the treated water seemed to wash away whatever control Sam still had. He went wild, throwing his arms and screaming. Dean took an elbow to the jaw and ducked his head behind his brother, clamping his arms around his chest to hold him, his well-honed hunting skills serving him well, even as he hated having to use them on his brother.

"Lower him down!" Bobby yelled over Sam's shouts and pleas. "Get him in the damn water fast!" The venom was spreading again; the stone was now inching above the waist of Sam's jeans and the boy screamed, throwing his head back. "It's gonna kill him!"

"No…it's not!" Dean muscled his little brother down into the water. The smell was anything but pleasant and made his nose burn. "What's in this crap?"

"Mandrake root among other things. All of him, get him down." Bobby put his hands to Sam's legs to keep him still and tried not to think too hard about the fact his right hand felt like it was holding the leg of a damn statue instead of a person. The stone clunked in the tub, knocking against the porcelain. Sam's back arched as the water climbed up his torso. "Damn."

"How long is this…gonna take?" Dean grunted with the effort of keeping Sam down. He had both of his brother's wrists in his hands and pressed to Sam's chest to hold him as another ragged scream filled the room. He could only watch as the venom crawled up his chest, inch by inch, getting closer to his heart.

"I don't know," Bobby admitted sadly. He gasped in surprise. "Wait. Something's happening." The stone beneath his hand was changing. He could feel the hard texture softening. Sam's entire body jerked hard with a guttural scream, and suddenly Bobby was holding two, flesh-and-blood legs beneath the green water. "It's working."

"Sam?" Dean released his brother's hands as his head fell back and he went limp. "Sammy? Talk to me, man." He picked up his brother's head and dropped his own as he heard the exhausted, even breaths coming from him. "Can we get him out?"

Bobby shook his head. "Safer to wait." The lines of venom and stone on Sam's chest slowly receded out of sight below the water. Bobby pulled Sam's right knee up gently, wiping the green, now slightly thicker water away from his thigh and grinned. "Dean, look." All signs of the venom were gone from Sam's leg. All that remained was a shallow, harmless-looking cut in the meat of his thigh above his knee. Bobby let it sink back into the tub with a relieved breath.

"Bobby." Dean put his free hand on Bobby's shoulder for a moment and looked at him with gratitude shining from the depths of his suspiciously shiny green eyes. "Thank you."

Clearly uncomfortable with the sincere emotion behind the simple words, Bobby looked away and started to push himself to his feet, mumbling something in response. Dean was able to make out "Lucky…able to….." and what sounded an awful lot like "….damn idjits," before Sam's soft groan pulled his attention back. "Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes, his vision blurred, and moaned. His whole body ached. "Dean. M'I ok?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah, buddy. You're good."

Sam looked down at the water, and, with great effort, managed to raise his right knee up. He smiled when he could feel it and bend it again and let it drop back with a small splash.

"Hey!" Bobby brushed the green water from the front of his shirt with an irritated scowl. "Already wearin' enough of this crap, thank you very little."

Sam chuckled softly and raised his hand to Dean. "Can I get out now? This…does not smell good."

Dean snorted and took his arm. "Smells like your shorts." He pulled Sam up with Bobby's help and supported him while Bobby wrapped a towel around him.

"Dude, I don't…don't wanna know why you sniff my shorts." Sam chuckled as exhaustion suddenly took what little strength he had left. His head dropped to Dean's shoulder with a groan.

Bobby laughed and wrapped the towel around Sam's waist while Dean lightly cuffed the back of his brother's head to further relieve the crushing tension of the last seven hours. "Get these off him and get him to bed."

"Ah, God. The mental image." Dean groaned and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I need to not have that picture in my head, Bobby."

"Get a grip." Bobby stood and eased Sam out of Dean's grip and into his own. "You're his brother. You get 'em off. I'll hold him up."

"S'embarrassing," Sam mumbled but didn't have the energy to argue about it. It was taking what little he had left just to stay conscious and standing. He felt his face flush red as Dean undid his jeans and yanked them down under the towel and took his boxers with them. "Sucks."

"Not a field day for me either, buddy. But, hey, after all those diapers I changed, I dunno what you're embarrassed about." Dean snorted and tossed the ruined pants and Sam's shorts that had come with them, into the corner. Thankfully the towel had stayed in place. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders when Sam shot him a weak glare but couldn't quite help the small quirk at the corner of his lips, "Ok, bed." He rose and took one of Sam's arms from Bobby. They carried Sam between them out and put him down on the bed, easing him beneath the blanket. "You could help, you know?"

Sam smirked but didn't open his eyes. "Mmf."

"Bum." Dean snorted a laugh as Sam's head rolled to the side, and, just like that, he was asleep. Dean rested a hand in Sam's hair for a moment for reassurance and then sat back heavily on the other bed and stared at his brother as the fear swept away on a tidal wave of relief that made him weak.

"He's alright, Dean," Bobby assured him. "Be good as new when he wakes up. Look like you need some sleep yourself." He patted Dean's shoulder and gave him a little shove. "Go on. I'll watch him."

"You've been up as long as I have." Dean shook his head.

"Yeah; but I haven't been watchin' someone I love turn to stone in front of me," Bobby said softly with a look at Sam. "Big difference. Sleep already." He pushed again and smiled as Dean went over with a thump to the pillow.

"Not sleeping," Dean said firmly even as he rolled to his stomach and wrapped his arms around the pillow. "Just takin' a break."

"Uh huh." Bobby tugged the blanket out from under him and tossed it over him as the first soft, muffled snort came out of the pillow and he chuckled fondly. He took off his cap and rubbed a hand through his hair as he went and sat in one of the chairs wearily. "I'm getting' too old for this shit."

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_To Be Continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_**CHAPTER 4** _

Sam woke with a start and jerked upright. "Shit!" He whipped the comforter aside to look at his leg and ran a hand over the small bandage on his thigh above his knee.

"Dude! My eyes!" Dean exclaimed as he came out of the bathroom.

"Huh?" Sam realized then he was naked beneath the blanket and jerked it back. "Crap." He blushed furiously as he covered himself. "Why the hell am I naked?"

Dean looked at Sam's red face and grinned. He looked good and his voice, though still hoarse, was much stronger. "You don't remember the stinky green bath?" He tossed his wet towel to his bed and yanked a t-shirt out of his bag, pulling it on. "Don't worry. Your virtue's intact. Bobby bandaged your leg while we were sleeping."

Sam groaned. "Give me my bag? I need clothes." He looked around the room as Dean tossed his bag to him. "Where's Bobby?"

"Getting lunch. We slept through breakfast." Dean smirked as Sam bent suddenly and sniffed loudly.

"Yech! What's that smell?" Sam grimaced at the odor coming from under the blanket.

"That would be you and the green gunk we dipped you in last night." Dean laughed when Sam reached between the beds and pulled his damp towel over.

"That is nasty." Sam pulled the towel under the blanket and got up, wrapping it around his waist. "I'm taking a shower."

"You need moral support?" Dean raised a brow and gave him an innocent smile. "You know, if you're still afraid of the water."

Sam scowled with a vague memory of trying to escape the tub last night. "Shut up." He took his bag into the bathroom with him and shut the door on Dean's laughter.

Dean chuckled and smiled as the room door opened and Bobby came in with a bag. "Please tell me you brought bacon."

Bobby rolled his eyes and set the bag on the table. "Boy, how long have I known you?"

Dean grinned and pulled the bag over, opening it. "He's up. Taking a shower to wash off the stink."

"How's he look?" Bobby glanced at the closed bathroom door as the water turned on and smiled when nothing else happened; no panic or hydrophobia.

"Good. Was walkin' fine too. Oh, baby." Dean pulled a burger out of the bag and sniffed at the wrapper and the blissful smell of bacon. "I love you, man."

"Well, that ain't creepy at all." Bobby laughed.

"I was talking to the burger." Dean grinned and unwrapped it, taking a bite before he drooled.

Bobby shook his head with a grin. It was a relief knowing both his boys were alright after the night before. He figured it'd be a long time before he forgot the sound of Sam's screams and the anguish on his face. He shook himself and sat across from Dean, pulling out his own burger.

Sam emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, dressed and feeling like himself. He smiled at his brother and Bobby sitting at the table with a pile of empty burger wrappers between them. "Did you bring me anything? I'm starving."

Bobby reached into the bag and pulled out two chicken wraps. "What am I, stupid"

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam grinned and took them. He sat on the end of Dean's bed and pulled open the first wrapper. His ordeal the night before had left him ravenous for a change. He took a bite and looked up. Sam froze with his mouthful and stared at his brother with wide eyes.

"Dude, what? I got something on my face?" Dean looked over to Bobby who shrugged. "Sam?"

Sam worked to swallow around the lump of guilt in his throat as he finally noticed the bruise shining high on Dean's left cheekbone. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"What for?" Dean stared at him and then put a hand up to his face. "Dude." He rolled his eyes and then glared at Sam. "This is not your fault. You know that. I sure as hell don't blame you."

Sam shook his head. He couldn't even remember doing it but he knew he had. "I should have been able to control myself better. I could have really hurt you guys."

"Sammy," Dean groaned. He got up and knelt in front of him. "You were turning to stone in front of me and the damn venom was driving the bus when we got you in the water. Stop blaming yourself for this, little brother or I will kick your ass." Dean smirked when Sam smiled and nodded. "How do you always drag me into these chick flick moments?"

"You secretly love them," Sam muttered. He grinned around his chicken wrap with his appetite restored while Dean growled and went back to his chair.

Bobby chuckled and pulled over the bucket he'd brought out of the bathroom and took two flasks out. "Here." He handed one to Dean. "More of the antidote. Good news is, once you've been cured, you're immune." He smiled at Sam's surprised face. "Basilisk could take a chunk outta you tonight and you'll be fine."

"What's the bad news?" Dean asked, knowing there was.

Bobby sighed and put his own flask in his pocket. "You can't take it before you've been bitten. It only works if the venom's already in your system, so you watch your ass tonight, son."

"Watch your own," Dean told him with a snort. "Or are you planning on some old-guy naptime while we go kill the monster?"

"Boy, you ain't too big for me to whoop your ass." Bobby threatened Dean's grinning face.

Sam laughed around his mouthful of chicken wrap. He swallowed it and sobered. "I still want to know why the basilisk came after us last night. Dean was right. It hasn't left the park before now, so _why_ now?"

Bobby sat back. "Who knows you're here and askin' about the deaths?"

"Cops," Dean shrugged. "Oh, and your hottie from the occult store."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, she's not _my_ hottie. Grow up."

"What occult store?" Bobby sat forward, interested.

"Miss Margerie's House of the Occult," Sam said and smirked. "She's uh…she's cute. Gave me her card last night before we left the restaurant."

"Show it to me." Bobby said suddenly. "You put it in your pocket or your jacket?"

"Uh, jacket. Bobby, what's up?" Sam asked as Bobby pulled his jacket up from the floor and rifled through the pockets.

"Got a hunch." Bobby found a business card in the outside pocket. He looked at it, flipped it over and scowled. "Son of a bitch. See these?" He held the card out to Dean and pointed at several small spots on the back. "Those are scent-attract dots. They use 'em in snake traps." He handed the card back to Sam. "They don't last long, but they make for a powerful lure while they do."

"She baited me," Sam said softly.

"I did a little digging while you guys were asleep." Bobby sat back down and looked over at the angry glare on Dean's face as he stared at the card Sam held. "There was a witch in this area twenty some years ago. Group of Hunters came in and cleaned her out, but they found a friggin' zoo of the weird in her cellar." He shook his head. "She even had a manticore down there. Those things are worse than basilisks. Killed three of the guys before they managed to gank it."

"Ok, occult chick is definitely not old enough to the witch." Dean reached out and took the card from his brother. He pulled his zippo out and lit the card, letting it fall into the trash can. "If she's over twenty-two, I'd be surprised."

"Well, the witch had a family." Bobby shrugged. "Could be her granddaughter, and she inherited the basilisk from her. Only reason I can think of to bait Sam."

"Damn." Sam stood and grabbed the car keys. "Hang on." He went out to the Impala and took the bottle Margerie had given him out of the glove box. Sam went back in the room, closing the door, and handed it to Bobby. "Check that." He sat back down, rubbing at his thigh and caught the concerned look on his brother's face. "It's fine, Dean. Just sore."

Dean scowled but left it alone for the moment and turned to Bobby instead. "Well? She actually give him weasel stink?"

Bobby uncorked the bottle, sniffed and sighed. "It's water. She was on to you from the start."

"We've got a good eight hours until nightfall." Dean stood and looked down at his brother. "I say we go pay Blair Witch Project a visit."

Sam stood and Dean shoved him back down. "No way, dude. Stay."

"Dean, I'm fine." Sam stood anyway and growled in frustration when Dean shoved him back down.

"Maybe you forgot the part where you spent most of the night screaming and trying not to die, but I sure as hell haven't." Dean glared down at him. "Take a damn break. You think I can't tell when you're hiding a limp?"

Sam scowled. "It's a stupid cut, Dean. I am fine."

"Really?" Dean leaned down and clamped his hand over where he knew the wound was on Sam's thigh and squeezed. His brother's face paled instantly and broke out in a sweat. He let go and straightened, crossing his arms over his chest and smiled. "You're staying. Come on, Bobby."

Bobby let him walk past and then dropped a hand to Sam's shoulder. "Sorry, kid. He's right, though."

Sam waved a hand, still catching his breath and let them go. He massaged a hand lightly over the wound and groaned as the door shut. "Not…fair, Dean. Dammit." He rolled his eyes as spots of blood came up through his jeans. "Should have bandaged it."

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"Place doesn't look open," Bobby commented as they got out in front of the occult shop. There were no lights on inside that he could see, and the shades were pulled on all the windows. He looked down at the strangely dead garden lining the sidewalk. "Well, that used to be nightshade." He pointed. "Monksbane and, damn, that's Mandrake root."

Dean jogged up the steps and tried to the knob. The door swung open to the sound of the chimes hung above it. "I think we're expected." He pulled out his gun and eased inside with Bobby at his back. Sam had told him the shop was a cluttered mess, but now the shelves and walls were empty. The occasional bottle or book lay lonely on the shelves, but the shop had been cleaned out.

Bobby raised his own gun and nodded, going to the right while Dean headed left. "Must'a left in a hurry."

"She had to know I'd come looking for her after Sam…" Dean trailed off with a shiver. "Let's find this bitch." He moved deeper into the shop and ran a finger over the six and a half foot amethyst geode Sam had mentioned. Even in the dim light, the crystals still sparkled as he walked past. There were more empty shelves and tables. "Where the hell are the stairs?" The house had a second story, and he wanted a look before he wrote her off as gone. Bobby appeared around the corner ahead of him. "You see anything?"

Bobby looked over at him. "No; house is cl…"

"What? Bobby?"

"Dean! Drop!" Bobby raised his gun back up and fired.

Without hesitation, Dean threw himself to the floor as Bobby let off two rounds. He rolled to his back to see what he was shooting at and it took his brain a minute to catch up to what he was seeing. The geode was moving. The few shafts of light that came in around a nearby window glinted from the crystals and sent little rainbows to dance over the empty walls and shelves.

"What the hell is THAT?" Dean scrambled back along the floor to Bobby while the older men kept firing. Pieces of crystal broke off with each shot and clattered around the room as they fell, but otherwise, the shots seemed to have no effect on the thing.

"How the hell should I know?" Bobby took Dean's shoulder and pulled back as the base of the geode split in two and it took a step toward them. "That is just not right."

"Aw, I HATE witches!" Dean shouted. He unloaded a few useless shots that did nothing but break off a few more chunks and didn't slow its advance. "Ok, we need a better plan!" The geode shivered with a cracking sound and arms split from its body to reach for the men.

"Tactical retreat!" Bobby shoved Dean down the hall and out of sight of the thing as its heavy steps echoed on the floor boards.

"If you mean run, I'm behind that plan." Dean jogged down the hall and skidded to a stop in the kitchen. It was as emptied as the rest of the first floor. He grabbed the back door to wrench it open and stared in surprise when nothing happened. "No way."

"Anytime you wanna move your ass, princess." Bobby growled at him.

"The door won't open," Dean told him and stepped back, waving an arm at it for Bobby to try himself.

Bobby tried to open the door and then threw his shoulder into it, but it didn't so much as shiver in the frame. "Balls. Lockdown."

Dean nodded. "Wanna try the front?"

"We got a choice?" Bobby headed back the way he'd come at a run with Dean, trying to reach the front of the house. He rounded a corner and gave a surprised grunt of pain as a crystalline arm swept out and sent him flying.

"Bobby!" Dean slid to a stop and dropped to his back under the geode creature's arm. He kicked out at one of its legs. "Shit!" He yelled as the impact reverberated painfully back up his leg. Dean backpedaled on the floor as the geode loomed over him. "Bobby?"

Bobby groaned and rolled off the now-crumpled shelf that had broken his fall. "That hurt," he gasped. He wrapped both arms around his chest and sucked in a breath.

"Ok; you gotta get up now." Dean reached the older hunter and got a hand under his shoulder. "Come on." He heaved and pulled Bobby to his feet, took a step, and almost went back down as his foot protested being stood upon. "Ow. Dammit!"

"This is going well," Bobby said ruefully. He pulled Dean sharply aside to avoid a downswing of the geode's arm and covered his face as splinters flew from the crushed shelf.

Dean shook out his foot and looked around for any weapon that might actually work. "We need a damn axe!"

"Hammer and chisel." Bobby fell back as an amethyst fist shot out toward his head.

Dean picked up a heavy looking wood bench and swung it at the geode with all his strength. It slammed into the crystal, breaking chunks off to clatter over the floor and it rocked backward, almost toppling. Dean pulled the bench back and took another swing. The animated geode was ready for it, catching the bench against an arm and shattered it into chunks then carried through and slapped into Dean's stomach.

"Oof." Dean doubled over as all the air was knocked out of him and he saw black spots dance across his vision. He heard Bobby shout as his knees hit the floor and saw a glittering, amethyst foot stomp down in front of his face. 'This is gonna hurt' he thought and tried to throw himself to the side, out of its path.

"Hey, ugly!" Bobby took Dean's lead and grabbed another bench. He rammed it into the center of the geode, knocking it off balance slightly. "Come on, idjit. Get up!" He took the arm Dean held out and pulled him, trying to get him up, but they were both cradling bruised ribs now.

Dean gasped in a breath when his lungs finally let him and went weak at the knees, going down to one with Bobby at his back.

"Son, you gotta get up," Bobby bent over him and kept one eye on the geode. "We need to move. Now!"

Dean nodded. "Trying," He groaned and looked over as the floor vibrated again; the geode creature stomping closer, each step bouncing the wood floor and the shelves lying askew around them. He got one leg up with Bobby's help, started to pull the other under him and then there was an ominous crack. "B…Bobby?"

"Oh, shi…"

The floor gave way from under them with a sound like an explosion as the geode's weight crashed through. Dean and Bobby could do nothing as they tumbled down in a shower of wood and plaster but hope they didn't land on the creature at the bottom.

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_To Be Continued_ _…_


	5. Chapter 5

_**CHAPTER 5** _

Sam looked over at the bedside clock and sighed. He glanced at his watch and rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. Dean and Bobby had left over an hour ago, and he hadn't heard from them since. He pulled out his cell phone and tried his brother again. It rang and went to voicemail. He dialed Bobby instead and growled in irritation as it, too, went to voicemail.

"Dammit, guys. Where are you?" Sam stood and bent to rub irritably at his thigh as the wound pulled, but his growing concern won out over comfort. He glanced around the room once and picked up his jacket, shrugging it on. "That's it." He limped outside, pulling the door shut behind him and smiled grimly at Bobby's truck. He went around to the driver's side and smiled again, finding it unlocked, but that was as far as his luck went. The ignition was empty. He leaned down under the dash and pulled out the wires he'd need to hotwire it. "Sorry, Bobby. Should have left your keys," He muttered and climbed in as the engine rumbled to life. He drove a little faster than he probably should have, especially as he had his phone in one hand repeatedly trying their cells again and, each time they didn't answer, pressing his foot a little harder on the gas. He missed the power of the Impala and the familiar growl of its engine. Sam slowed as he neared the occult shop and parked beside Dean's baby.

Sam climbed out of the truck, careful of his sore leg and frowned. It looked different. It looked empty. "What's going on?" He went up the walk, staring in surprise at the little garden that had been alive the last time he'd been there and now looked long dead. He climbed the steps to the porch and pulled on the door, but it remained stubbornly closed. "Huh." He went over to the nearest window and looked in, brows rising in surprise. The interior of the store had been emptied.

"What the hell?" Sam walked across the porch to the other window and looked in. "Oh, my…Dean!" He shouted and banged on the window. Around the side of the shade, he could see a massive hole in the floor where something…or someone… had fallen through. His gut told him it was Bobby and his brother. "Dean! Bobby?" He pulled his gun out, pulled his sleeve over his hand, and smashed the gun butt into the glass. It didn't break, and Sam stared up at the house in shock.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!" Sam banged on the window. "Bobby! Dean! Can you hear me?" He put his ear to the window, but could hear nothing inside. They were in there, he knew it. Sam ran unevenly down the stairs and went around the side of the house to try and find another way in. Whatever was locking down the house couldn't cover everything…he hoped. He found a small, narrow window at the base of the house on the side and went carefully to his good knee to look in. He gasped. There was a pile of rubble in the middle of the cellar floor, what looked like the misshapen remains of the massive Geode he'd seen earlier and his brother and Bobby, both unconscious in the middle of it.

"Dean!" Sam put his gun away and banged on the glass. "Come on. Wake up! Bobby!" He leaned back and frowned. There was a small symbol etched into the wood on the side of the house. He used the wall to get back to his feet and went around to the front again. He scoured the siding and near the second floor, found the same symbol again. "Curiouser and curiouser," He muttered.

Sam walked around the whole house and on the back found a fourth and final matching symbol above another cellar window. "So that's how she's locking the house down." He bent and tugged the knife out of his boot then knelt by the mark, pressing the tip of the blade into the wood above it. He started to pull it down to cut across it and flinched as something slammed into him from the side, knocking him sprawling. Sam rolled to his back and shouted in agony as the basilisk reared above him and sank its fangs into his wounded thigh, almost as though it were trying to finish the wound it had started the night before.

"Shit!" Sam yelled. The basilisk released him, and he drove his fist into the side of its head, momentarily stunning it. Rather than try to run, he rolled back to the house. Blood was flowing from the two, neat puncture wounds in his thigh, making him lightheaded. Sam picked up his knife from the grass and reared up, scraping the blade through the burnt symbol, defacing it. It flared briefly in the late afternoon sun, and Sam heard air rush in to the house. "DEAN!" Sam shouted. He slammed the knife into the window, shattering it. "Dean! Bobby!"

The basilisk returned and wrapped around Sam in a fluid movement, rolling him away from the window and into the yard as its coils tightened around his chest and pinned his arms helplessly to his sides. The knife dropped from his fingers as he lost the ability to breathe in. Darkness began to creep across his field of vision as his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. His mouth opened wide in search of air he couldn't breathe in.

"Don't kill him. Bring him."

The voice, a woman's, filtered into Sam's ears like a sound through water, distant and muffled. He tried to see her, but his vision was quickly tunneling as the basilisk seemed to disagree and tightened its grip around him.

"I said…bring. Him. Now."

Sam felt the basilisk's angry growl through its body, but it loosened slightly, allowing the first breath to wheeze past Sam's lips. That proved to be a mistake as the creature exhaled a noxious vapor that burned as Sam breathed it down and finished the job of knocking him out even as he heard his brother's voice.

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Dean jerked awake on a gasp and then groaned, falling back. "Holy…crap." He opened his eyes, coughing dust, and rolled his head up. Bobby lay half on him. "Explains why…can't take a…deep breath. Bobby!" Dean slapped Bobby's chest. "Get off me."

Bobby moaned and tried to find a comfortable position on the lumpy bed. "Five more min…"

"Up!" Dean slapped him again.

Bobby's eyes shot open and he stared in surprise at Dean. "Hit me again, son," Bobby glared the threat at him and rolled off into the pile of debris. "Damn."

Dean chuckled and looked around for the geode creature as he brushed bits of wood and dust out of his hair. "Where'd it go?" He whipped his head around as he heard his brother's voice screaming his name. "Sammy?"

"There!" Bobby pointed to a small window on the wall above them. Sam knelt outside the window and made them both jump as he smashed it in.

"Dean! Bobby!" Sam's panicked voice shouted into the cellar with an echo.

"Sam!" Dean scrambled out of the pile, groaning over the pull of bruised ribs. In a blur, Sam was knocked out of sight by something large. "SAM!" Dean dove to the wall, his aches and pains forgotten as he strained to see outside, not even feeling it when the broken glass on the small ledge cut into his hand. "Sammy?" He peered outside as Bobby came up beside him and gasped. He had a momentary view of his brother being encircled by a massive snake before they rolled out of sight. "We need to get upstairs _now_! What the hell's he doing here?"

Bobby climbed back into the rubble from the floor above, seeing the stairs across from them in the murky light. He yelled in surprise as his feet were taken out from under him. "Dean! Look out!"

Dean growled as the geode shifted in the rubble, still in one piece. "Son of a bitch! I do not have time for you!"

It was on its side and thrashing in the pile of wood and debris, sending bits and pieces flying dangerously. Dean ducked a chunk of wood aimed for his head and searched the basement. It hadn't been emptied like the floor above. He stumbled and fell getting to the other side of the room and found a sledgehammer lying atop a work bench.

"Oh, yeah, baby." Dean grinned and hefted the hammer, turning back to the geode. "Bobby! Get out of the way!"

Bobby crawled away from the debris and the creature as Dean advanced and took his first swing. The head of the sledge hammer crashed down into one of the crystalline arms and shattered it into chunks. Dean's face was grim as he smashed the geode again, flinching as a piece of amethyst broke, flew up, and sliced across his cheek. He hacked it into small chunks and then dropped the hammer.

"And stay down, Rocky! Come on!" Dean climbed over the crystal and rubble, pulled Bobby to his feet and ran for the stairs. He jumped every other stair in his haste.

Bobby followed him, fast as he could but still lagging behind as Dean vanished out the cellar door. "Stupid…damn…stairs," he huffed as he finally reached the top and came out in the kitchen. The back door hung open and Bobby ran out, sliding to a stop on the porch. "Dean?"

"He's gone," Dean said softly, his voice full of contained rage. There were clear signs of a struggle in the grass and a wide area that was crushed, no doubt from the basilisk capturing his brother.

Bobby looked over to the cellar window and came down off the deck. He knelt in front of it and sighed as both worry and pride for Sam overcame him. "Dean. Come here." He pointed to the scratched out sigil on the wall above the window. "Sam figured it out, how to break the spell locking us in. Savin' our asses is what he was doing here."

Dean nodded wordlessly and bent, picking Sam's knife out of the long grass. He held it tight, squeezing the grip in his hand and straightened. "It's taking him to the park. There's blood, Bobby." He watched as Bobby struggled back to his feet beside him. "It's bitten him again."

"He's immune to the venom now, remember?" Bobby assured him. "That damn thing can't turn him to stone anymore."

"Yeah." Dean turned and started around the house to the front. "But it can still hurt him a dozen different ways."

Bobby groaned at the truth of that and followed him. His bruised ribs were screaming a protest, and he figured Dean's had to be as painful as his own; they'd both taken a couple good whacks from the geode. He rounded the front of the house beside Dean and stopped to stare. "Balls! If that boy hotwired my truck, I'll kick his ass!" He jogged across the lawn, opened the driver's side door and growled as he saw the wires dangling from under the dash.

Dean smiled in spite of the fear over what was happening to Sam and went to the Impala. "Should have left your keys in the room."

Bobby snarled at him and climbed up into the truck, sliding his key into the ignition. He pulled out behind Dean and followed the sleek, black muscle car trying not to choke on the worry. "Don't you die on us, Sam," He said softly, fiercely. "Don't you dare."

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Sam woke with a start as he was dropped hard to the ground. It jarred the newly made wound in his right thigh, and he bit his lip to hold in the moan of pain. He lay as still as he could, listening as the basilisk slithered around him. He heard soft footsteps and cracked an eye as a pair of small heels stepped near his face. Margerie. Light filtered down from somewhere above them, enough for him to see by anyway so it was still day; he hadn't been out that long.

It took an immense amount of willpower not to flinch away as he felt Margerie's hands on his right leg. They pressed cruelly into the puncture wounds from the basilisk's fangs, and he bit his lip harder.

"Well, now what I do with you, Sam? Hmm?" Margerie straightened, wiping her bloody hands on her skirts absently. "That grumpy old man brought an antidote, didn't he? Well, I'm sure he and your brother have paid for that by now with their lives."

Sam felt rage tinged with fear well up in him as she laughed. The sound echoed in the tunnel and grated on his nerves as the basilisk swept past him again with a hiss.

"I so wanted to add you to my collection." Margerie frowned, angry at being denied. She kicked his wounded thigh and grinned as he gasped in pain. "Time to wake up, Sam." She kicked his leg again and then screamed in surprise when he grabbed both her legs and pulled.

Sam yanked as hard as he could and heard the satisfying smack of her head into the tunnel floor. The pain from his leg was making him see stars, but he knew the basilisk was still nearby. He fumbled through the pockets of his jacket as it came back into view and hissed viciously at him. He pulled his iPod out, trailing the wire attached to the speaker still in his pocket and flicked it on as the serpent's crested head reared over him and it inhaled.

"See how…you like…this." Sam pressed play, and the sound of a rooster crowing filled the tunnel, only slightly muffled by being in his pocket. The effect on the basilisk was instantaneous. It screamed. He'd never heard a snake scream before, and this was ear-splitting, driving a shaft of pain straight into his skull. Sam slapped his hands over his ears and felt trickles of blood against his palms as the basilisk thrashed on the floor and then fled down the tunnel.

He shoved the iPod back into his pocket, leaving it playing and looked up. There was a ladder on the wall next to him leading up into the light. Sam used the base of the ladder to get to his feet. His hands were slick with the blood from his ears, and his leg protested being used. He ignored it. Sam could still hear the basilisk down the tunnel, and Margerie, while still on the floor, was shifting toward consciousness. He slid a hand to his back and cursed; his gun was gone, and he remembered dropping his knife at the shop when the creature had jumped him.

"Dammit," Sam groaned. He turned back to the ladder and started up, as quick as he could. His right leg was weak from the wound and from the kicks Margerie had given him, and blood loss was making him tired and shaky. He climbed, working not to let his blood-slick hands slip off the rusted, flaking rungs. He reached the top with the rooster's voice echoing around him and shoved the sewer grate aside with a grunt. Sam pushed with his good leg and rolled out onto the grass-choked pavement. It was late afternoon, and the sun was quickly sinking below the horizon. He'd been unconscious longer than he thought, and that terrified him for Dean and Bobby. He couldn't allow himself to even consider that Margerie had been right…that they were already dead.

Sam got to his feet and took only a step before going back to his knees on a gasp of pain. "Shit!" He clamped a hand over the bleeding wounds and made himself get back up. He staggered forward unevenly and looked around. He was definitely in the amusement park and stood in the middle of the hulk of a defunct roller coaster. The corkscrew turns hung above him with vines and leaf-heavy ivy covering them and climbing the support legs. It looked like the rib cage of some long dead dinosaur as the last rays of sunlight glinted from the top and then faded away into dusk.

A growling hiss came from behind Sam and he spun to find the basilisk creeping out of the hole. "No." Sam watched its head jerk as if struck with each crow of the rooster from the speaker in his pocket, and Sam turned and ran unsteadily with one hand clamped down over his right thigh. His own breath whistled in his ringing ears, his heart pounding in his throat. Each glance over his shoulder showed the serpent drawing closer in spite of the sound. It was determined to have him, and, at Sam's pace, it soon would. He couldn't outrun it on open ground.

Sam stumbled into the base of the roller coaster and held on to keep from falling to the ground. The basilisk was a mere ten yards behind him now. He looked up and groaned. "This is a bad idea." Since he couldn't outrun it, he'd just have to make it harder for the serpent to catch up to him. He began climbing the support leg of the roller coaster. Leaves showered down from the vines as he climbed, gaining a dozen feet off the ground before he looked down. The basilisk was directly beneath him, still hissing and growling in agitation with each sound issuing from the pocket of Sam's jacket but definitively focused on him.

"Wish you'd just…get bored…and go away!" Sam climbed faster, hampered by his leg and the vines wrapped around the bars. He was forty feet up and out one of the corkscrew turns when his luck ran out. The vines under his hand tore and his hand slipped. He swung out and shouted in frustration, trying to keep his grip with his right hand. As he swung wildly, his iPod flew from his pocket. For a moment it hung beneath him from the speaker cord. Sam tried to pull it back up but its weight won out; the iPod detached from the cord, the rooster crows stopped and it dropped while Sam could only watch.

"No!" Sam shouted and closed his eyes as it hit the ground below and shattered into pieces. His eyes flew open as the basilisk screamed. He watched it surge up the roller coaster, a shadowy shape against shadows, weaving in and out of the bars and supports with no hesitation now. Sam growled and got his other hand back on one of the bars above him. The creature stopped and turned red eyes up to Sam in a glare as it opened its mouth. The scream that it let loose drove into Sam's head once more and he felt fresh blood trickle from his ears as his vision swam and his left hand slipped free, leaving him swinging under the coaster again.

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_To be Continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

_**CHAPTER 6** _

Dean squealed the Impala to a stop in the grass-covered cement of the parking lot outside the park. The sun had set, and what little light there was quickly began to fade into night. The defunct rides of the park rose up beyond the half tumbled-down entrance gate with the green-covered bulk of a Ferris wheel in the distance beyond the bones of a roller coaster. He threw himself out of the car and went to the trunk as Bobby pulled up next to him and climbed out.

"Can't believe you didn't roll the car the way you took that last corner," Bobby grumbled at Dean and pulled a machete and his handgun out of the cab with him. "He's alive, Dean. You know he is."

"Damn right, he is." Dean shoved a gun under the back of his jacket and took out his own machete, slamming the trunk closed.

"You got the antidote with you?" Bobby asked and patted his own pocket to reassure himself the flask was still there and intact.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Let's move." He strode through the ruined entrance and climbed over the debris with one thought in his mind: find Sam. The fear that he would be too late again was choking him. His brother's screams still echoed in his ears from the night before, and, even in his dreams, he couldn't escape the memory of feeling Sam go still against him as they knelt in the mud of Cold Oak. It haunted him. Dean shook himself and stopped. "Wait. You hear that?"

Bobby looked around at the decaying hulks of the rides around them. They were covered in greenery, in various stages of decay. The fun house loomed ahead of them, and he couldn't help but think the flaking clown faces painted on its front made it look more like a house of horrors. The day's light was almost gone, and the deepening dusk lent an ominous air to the park and the stillness that pervaded everything around them. That stillness was shattered by an unnatural scream.

"That's the basilisk!" Bobby broke into a run to catch up with Dean who sprinted ahead of him.

"Sounds pissed," Dean said with a grim smile. "Gotta be Sam." He ran and followed the sounds of the irate serpent. He skidded around a decrepit Tilt-a-Whirl and stopped to stare. "Holy crap!" He looked up to the towering corkscrew of a roller coaster ahead of them and saw his brother dangling by one arm from the top of one of the arches with the basilisk only feet away from him. "SAM!"

"Balls!" Bobby had lurched to a stop but now started running. He climbed over the track of the coaster, digging in his pocket as he went. He pulled out a small digital recorder and hit play. The sound of roosters crowing burst from the little speakers. The sounds were tinny and loud but carried far enough. The basilisk screamed above them and writhed on the support of the coaster.

Dean twitched with fear as he heard Sam's voice raised in pain over the rooster's and the basilisk's cry. The creature thrashed hard and shook the entire structure of the coaster, and then it fell, losing its grip on the metal struts. "Shit!" Dean grabbed Bobby's arm and dragged him back as the thirty feet of twisting, black serpent came down at them. He pulled him to the track as the basilisk hit the ground. Both men stared in shock as it crashed through the ground and out of sight below.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled up to his still hanging brother. "Hang on!" He tossed his machete to Bobby and ran for the support. He climbed in a rush, losing his grip more than once as vines crumbled under his hands and the blood from the still open wound on his left palm made the metal slick. He kept his eyes glued to his brother as he went and gave a little sigh of relief as Sam got both hands back on the coaster.

"Hold on, Sam!" Bobby yelled up to him and then inched toward where the basilisk had vanished. He found a ten-foot, gaping hole in the ground and took out his flashlight to shine it down. "Guess we found the maintenance tunnels," He muttered. The basilisk was nowhere in sight in the rubble below. It had slithered away into the darkness.

Sam fought to hold on. The basilisk's screams had deafened him. He'd come perilously close to passing out from the pain, and could still hear nothing beyond the ringing in his ears. He opened his eyes with a gasp as something brushed his arm and held on to it. He jerked, expecting the basilisk and instead saw his brother's face staring down at him. Even through his pain and disorientation, Sam recognized it as Dean's 'I'm-trying-really-hard-not-to-panic-here' face, even though he couldn't quite figure out how Dean was there at all.

"Dean?" Sam asked, confused. He could see Dean's mouth moving but couldn't hear him. Dean was laid out along the track above him and pulled Sam's arm up.

"Come on, dammit. Sam!" Dean grunted with the effort of dragging him up. Sam seemed to be in a daze, his eyes glassy as they stared up at him. Finally, he seemed to come back to himself and swung his left leg to get a purchase on one of the cross-bars. "That's it. Climb!" He kept a vice-like grip on Sam's arm until he was up and lying beside him. "Ok, buddy? Sam?" He scowled as Sam shook his head. "What's wrong?"

"Can't hear you," Sam told him breathlessly.

Dean noticed then the streams of red that seemed to come from his brother's ears and stained the neck of his shirt and jacket. "Son of a bitch." He took a deep breath. "Ok. Down." Dean took his shoulder and pointed to the ground until Sam nodded and started crawling down the arch of the coaster.

Bobby watched their slow progress while keeping an eye out in case the creature decided to make a reappearance or Margerie showed herself. He kept the recorder out in his hand and on. "Hurry up!" He called and didn't take a deep breath until they neared the bottom. Bobby went to them and helped Sam get both feet on the ground. He had to catch him under a shoulder as Sam's right leg buckled. "Sam? You alright, son?"

"He can't hear," Dean told him as he dropped beside them. He took Sam's face in his hand while Bobby paled with worry. "Sammy? You hear anything yet?"

Sam shook his head, making out what Dean was asking by reading his lips. "Just ringing. It's ok. I'll be ok." He stopped his brother when he reached for the bleeding wounds in Sam's leg. "No. Don't. Basilisk venom."

"Dammit!" Dean cursed. He knelt to get a better look but didn't touch. He nodded as Bobby shined his flashlight and could see spots of venom glistening with the blood.

"Not as bad as it looks," Sam assured them and to prove it, made himself stand on his own two feet. "Where'd it go?"

Bobby pointed to the hole a few feet away as Sam's eyes widened.

"Margerie's down there too." Sam limped to the edge, amused that he couldn't hear the curse clearly on Dean's lips and looked down. "Knocked her out but she's probably up again by now." He gave Dean a long look as he came up beside him and couldn't stop himself reaching out and clasping a hand around his brother's arm. "She said you were dead." It came out softly, though he couldn't hear it, and saw Bobby shake his head with a smile.

Dean clasped a hand to the back of Sam's neck with a smile. "She lied." Sam stared at him a moment longer as if reassuring himself, and finally released Dean's arm after giving it a final squeeze.

"Dean, what do you wanna do?" Bobby peered around the empty park knowing the creature was waiting out there somewhere for them. "Take him back to the motel?"

"You're not taking me back," Sam said and chuckled when they both stared at him. "No, still can't hear you, but I'm not stupid. "You waste time getting me out of here and we could lose them. She could take the basilisk and start up again somewhere else. No. We stay." He took one of the two machetes Bobby still carried out of his hand and held it firmly. "I'm good."

Dean scowled and shook his head. "I don't like this, but I guess we don't have much of a choice."

"Is the fun house around here somewhere?" Sam asked and looked around him in the darkness. "Saw an entrance to the tunnels under it when I looked at the blueprints for the park."

"Back here." Bobby took Sam's arm and turned him, trying not to laugh at how loud Sam was speaking. "Hope his hearing comes back soon. Not gonna be able to sneak up on anything with him like this."

"Gonna lose mine with that damn racket." Dean nodded to the recorder in Bobby's hand. "How'd you know to bring that anyway?" He wondered suddenly where Sam's Ipod with the rooster recordings was.

"'Cause I do my own damn research, ya idjit." Bobby rolled his eyes. "Of course I brought it."

"Sorry," Dean smirked and took Sam's arm as he stumbled on his bad leg. "Gimme that before you take your own leg off." He pulled the machete from his brother's hand and kept his under Sam's arm to steady him.

Sam scowled as Dean took the weapon but let him without an argument. He'd admit, at least to himself, he wasn't anywhere near fighting fit just then, but there was no way he was leaving them alone with the creature and the witch in the park. He was the only one of the three of them who didn't have to worry about being turned to stone or, as it turned out, being knocked out by the basilisk's cry, thanks to the nonstop ringing in his ears. It was making him sick to his stomach. He balked for a moment as they turned a corner and the funhouse came into view.

"Great," Sam groaned and couldn't hear Dean's laugh beside him as he got his first look at the clown covered front of the funhouse. It would have been disturbing looking even without the clowns. "There should be a service door inside somewhere."

"Well, that narrows it down." Bobby shook his head and climbed the creaking stairs up to the door. He reached a hand back and helped Sam up them.

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam grimaced at having to walk into the open, gaping grin of a clown and gave himself a shake once inside. They had to duck through a lopsided tunnel once inside, and Sam ended up on his ass as it spun slightly and took his legs out. "Dammit."

"Gotcha." Dean laughed and pulled him back up, holding onto him as the tunnel tried to spin again.

"Really want that damn thing dead now," Sam grumbled as he and Dean came out the other side where Bobby waited for them with the light.

Dean pulled his own flashlight out and gave it to Sam since his hands were full of machete and little brother. "Little 'light' duty, huh, Sammy?"

Bobby shook his head with a laugh. "How's it funny if he can't hear ya to get irritated?"

"So I crack myself up. What can I say?" Dean shrugged and then laughed harder. "Look! He's giving me a bitch face. Can't hear me, but he knows I'm giving him crap." Sam was indeed glaring at him.

"You boys beat all," Bobby chuckled. "You think maybe we can ditch the laugh track and go kill this thing now?"

"You're no fun anymore." Dean grinned and headed down a hall, steering him and his brother between dusty rails on the floor. He used the machete to slice through hanging cobwebs in their path. They emerged into a larger room, and he felt Sam jerk slightly and hesitate as his light played over the faces of leering clowns hanging from the walls. "It's officially Sammy hell." There was an old upright piano across from them with another clown propped at the keys. Its costume was in tatters, revealing the skeletal-looking animatronics beneath that had once made it play the piano.

"Shut up, Dean." Sam didn't need to hear him to know he was teasing him about the clowns. They crossed the room toward the tunnel on the other side, but Sam pulled Dean up and pointed. "Look." There was a door beside the piano with 'maintenance' in faded paint on it.

Dean hopped up onto the platform and pulled Sam up with him, watching his face pale as he bent his right leg. "Sam?"

"S'alright." Sam said breathlessly to the concern clear on Dean's face and was comforted by the feel of Bobby's hand on his back, keeping him from toppling backward.

Bobby bent and shined his light on Sam's thigh again and sighed. "Bleedin's pretty much stopped, but from the looks of this…" He gestured to the red-stained leg of his jeans. "…he's lost enough to make him light-headed."

Dean scowled and shrugged. "Can't leave him here. We'll just have to keep an eye on him." He rubbed a hand between his eyes at the headache brewing there. "Maybe we should turn that thing off so we can hear anything sneaking up on us."

Bobby looked down to the recorder sending rooster calls to echo in the funhouse. He nodded. "Good idea." He clicked the stop button and took a breath in the sudden silence, enjoying it.

Sam cocked his head and looked down at Bobby's hand. "I think I heard that. I mean, heard it stop."

Dean smiled with relief and pulled open the maintenance door and leaned in for a look. "Got stairs, I think. Sam. Light. Sam!"

Sam jerked his head around as he heard the distant sound of his brother's voice and grinned as he limped over and shined the flashlight inside and down a narrow flight of stairs.

"Sam!" Bobby shouted as the clown at the piano suddenly erupted to its feet, much like the geode had, and crashed into them. It pushed Sam into the door which hit Dean and he tumbled from sight with a shout as the door slammed closed with Sam's weight.

Sam clenched his teeth on a shout of pain as he hit the floor with something heavy on his back. He threw an elbow behind him, crunching into something. He craned his head around and shined his light back into the faded grin of the piano clown. "Shit!" He yelled and rolled, throwing it off and fought against the irrational panic he knew would overtake him if he let it.

Bobby jumped up onto the platform and strode to them. He raised the machete and brought it down on the clown's neck, severing the head to roll away and thump down onto the rails. Its body didn't stop moving however, and one white-gloved hand grabbed his ankle, trying to pull him over.

"No, you don't!" Bobby growled and cut the arm from its body. He bent and pried the mechanical fingers loose, tossing the arm away. "Sam?"

Sam got up on his good knee and knocked away the remaining arm as it reach for him. "I _hate_ clowns!"

"Margerie's close." Bobby took the arm Sam held out and pulled him to his feet.

"Dean!" Sam ripped the door back open while the clown writhed on the floor and shined the light down the stairs. Dean was sprawled at the bottom, shifting groggily. Sam started down the stairs, having to catch himself on the rickety banister as his leg tried to go out. "Dean?"

"Careful, Sam." Bobby jogged down to him and took his arm, helping him get to the bottom and his brother. "Dean?" Bobby knelt beside him and hissed in a breath at the blood seeping from an open wound at his temple.

"Bobby, is he ok?" Sam eased himself down so he was sitting on the bottom step and could get a hand on his brother's arm. "Dean?"

"Just got his bell rung." Bobby replied, but then remembered Sam couldn't hear him and looked up with a smile and a nod. He cupped a hand around Dean's jaw as his head rolled. "Dean."

Dean groaned and opened his eyes as pain crashed through his head. "Why's everyone starin' a'me?"

Sam grinned and squeezed his arm, seeing Dean's eyes open and his mouth moving as he spoke. "Anything broken?"

"You sit up?" Bobby slid an arm behind Dean's shoulders and eased him up, watching his face for signs something was indeed broken. Thankfully, except for a grimace as he moved his head, Dean seemed to be in one piece.

"Crap," Dean groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He pulled his right away and looked at the blood he'd felt on his face. "Wha' hit me?"

"Well, Sam first, but the clown hit him and knocked you down the stairs." Bobby smirked. "Damn thing's still up there twitching."

"Margerie," Dean growled. "That bitch!"

Sam let his arm go and used the bottom of the railing to get back to his feet with a wince for his leg. He shined his flashlight down both ends of the hall. "That way…I think. Roller coaster should be that way."

"Not sure how I feel about running into the basilisk down here in these tight halls." Bobby stood and brought Dean with him, steadying him as he swayed woozily. "You good, son?"

"Sure." Dean blinked furiously and forced his eyes to focus as Sam started down the service tunnel ahead of them. He scooped his machete from the floor. "Hey! Gimp! Wait up!"

"How'd I end up the only able-bodied person on this job?" Bobby said ruefully and followed a swaying Dean who followed a limping Sam. "This is goin' real well."

Sam kept one hand on the wall as he walked. The ringing in his ears was finally starting to fade. He could hear Dean's voice over top of it and the dripping of water from ahead as he walked. He rounded a curve as Dean caught up to him and took his arm, slowing him down. Sam's light cut through the darkness into a large room and he staggered to a stop in surprise.

"What?" Dean stepped in front of him and took the flashlight. "Whoa."

"What's the hold up?" Bobby asked irritably as he came up alongside them and his eyes widened in surprise. "Damn."

"This is what she meant," Sam whispered. "She said she wanted to add me to her 'collection'."

The room in front of them, lit by the two flashlights, was a garden of human statues around a small pool of water; some stood, others sat or crouched, still more were lying down but each one had one thing in common...the look of complete agony frozen forever on their faces. Sam limped forward and dropped to his good knee beside the nearest prone figure and shined his light on the face. "It's Lenore. The survivor we found dead." He reached out and touched her head, shivering at the vivid memory of the unspeakable pain he knew she had endured. "Margerie went back for her."

"This is one twisted bitch," Dean said angrily and dropped a hand down onto Sam's shoulder, feeling the tremor in it and knowing damn well he was thinking about how he almost ended up here. "Take it easy."

"I'm alright."

"Uh…boys?" Bobby stepped around them, aiming his flashlight through the forest of the dead to the other side of the chamber and squinted into the darkness. "Think I just saw somethin' move over there." A loud hiss echoed through the room. "Ah, crap."

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_To Be Continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

_**CHAPTER 7** _

Dean slid his hand under Sam's shoulder and yanked him to his feet. "You hear him?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I heard." He froze as the hiss sounded again. "Heard that too." He grabbed hold of his brother's elbow before he could take off toward the creature. "Don't touch it or let it touch you! The venom's on its skin, not just in its mouth."

"Got it." Dean nodded, gave him a fearless grin and headed into the statues toward the other side of the room with Bobby at his side.

Sam wanted to help but he knew he'd only get in the way with a leg he could barely stand on, not to mention he was weaponless. He settled instead for keeping his light on the basilisk, making sure his brother and Bobby could see it clearly.

The basilisk showed itself, rearing up above the statues until its head brushed the ceiling. Bobby pulled the digital recorder from his pocket and turned it on. The sound of roosters crowing filled the room, and, as before, drove the serpent mad. It thrashed itself around, head thumping back to the floor as its coils rolled out into the room and wound among the statues. The ones closest to it were knocked over or thrown and shattered. Sam ducked as a chunk of petrified person flew at him and hit the wall next to his head.

"Bobby, look out!" Sam shouted.

Bobby didn't bother looking at Sam. He threw himself to the side and blew out a breath of relief as a coil of the basilisk swept over his head and away. "Thanks, Sam!" He jumped back to his feet and circled it, seeing Dean on its other side with the aid of Sam's light, held steady from across the room.

"This is not working!" Dean shouted and clapped a hand over one of his ears as the basilisk screamed, enraged. The sound pierced through his head, and he heard answering shouts of pain from Bobby and his brother. A trickle of blood began to drip from his ears, and he backed away hurriedly as the basilisk's head swung in his direction.

"Don't let it breathe on ya!" Bobby shouted a warning as he watched Dean dance back and away from the head. He had a bad feeling that if they stayed, things were not going to turn out well for them. "Get back! Dean, back to the tunnel! Move your ass! Go!"

"It's not dead yet!" Dean yelled angrily. "In case you didn't notice!"

Sam easily deduced what Bobby was doing. Standing back and watching made it clear they were at a distinct disadvantage, and it was only a matter of time before the creature poisoned one or both of them. He limped around the outside of the room until he reach his brother then clamped a hand around Dean's arm and tugged him back.

"Dean! Argue later!" Sam kept pulling until Dean finally came with a growl of frustration.

"Dammit!" Dean turned the tables and took Sam's arm under the shoulder, using it to propel him along beside him at a fast clip toward the door they had come through. Bobby was waiting and took Sam's other arm. They dragged him protesting between them back to the stairs and up them while the basilisk screamed, howled, and followed as closely as it could with the crowing of the roosters still pumping out of Bobby's recorder.

Bobby waited for Dean to drag Sam up and then slammed the door shut, leaning against it for a moment. "We're gonna get dead tryin' to tackle that thing in an open space." The door reverberated with an impact behind him. "Balls!"

"Piano." Dean leaned Sam against the wall and took one end of the player piano while Bobby took the other, and they pushed it over in front of the door just as the basilisk rammed it again. "That's not gonna hold it for long."

"This will work." Sam nodded to the door. "Let it in. It'll get bottlenecked in the door. It won't be able to maneuver and you can hack its head off while it's stuck."

"Huh." Dean smiled at his brother and hefted the machete. "I like this plan."

"Not bad, kid." Bobby wedged his flashlight in a hole in the wall so it shined on the door rattling door and nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

"No time like the present. Sam, back up." Dean pointed to the other side of the platform and then readied to shove the piano out of the way.

Sam moved away from the door, but made sure to stay directly across from it so the basilisk would focus on him when it came through and hopefully not pay attention to Dean and Bobby. The door rattled in its frame again as Dean heaved and the piano flew away. The door burst open, but rather than the basilisk's head, a ball of flame shot into the room. Sam threw himself to the side, rolling off the platform and down onto the old rails with a thump, feeling the heat wash over him as it seared the spot he had been standing a moment before.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, ducking away from the jet of super-heated gases. The stench burned into his nose and mouth, making his lungs hurt, and he covered his face, going to his knees.

Bobby dropped to his knees beside the door and reached his hand along the floor so he could hold the digital recorder into the open space. The rooster's crow filled the narrow stairwell and the basilisk screamed as the flame cut off. "Shut it already!"

Dean staggered back to his feet and slammed the door as Bobby pulled his hand out of the way. "What the hell ju…" Dean broke off in a coughing spasm, bending double and wheezed in a breath. "What happened?"

"Stairwell…must have muffled the sound from my recording." Bobby pushed up so he was sitting against the wall and kicked at the dismembered clown on the floor.

"Sam?" Dean went to the edge of the platform and looked over. "Dude, you alright?" He jumped down and knelt by his brother who sat against the low wall, hunched over his right leg.

Sam's face was drawn with pain, but he nodded. "Banged my leg." He slapped Dean's hand away as he reached a hand out to have a look. "Venom, remember? You can't touch it until I clean it."

"Dammit," Dean growled, not at all alright with watching his brother suffer and not being able to do anything about it.

"Bobby ok?" Sam asked and craned his head, trying to see over the wall.

"Yeah, he's fine." Dean settled for putting a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Dean. Sam ok?" Bobby went over the edge and looked down. He sighed. "Damn, kid."

"It's fine. I'm fine. Stop hovering already!" Sam's voice was heavy with irritation, tired of being injured and on his ass every five minutes.

"Take it easy, princess." Dean rolled his eyes and slid his hand under Sam's shoulder, pulling him up and let him sit back on the platform.

"Sorry," Sam grumbled and straightened his leg slowly. He cocked his head to the side and his eyes widened. "Why can't I hear the rooster anymore?"

Bobby ran a hand under his ballcap and through his hair. "It's in the stairwell. Kinda dropped it when Dean shut the door. Still playin' though."

Dean jumped as an electronic whine sounded from his jacket pocket. "What the hell?" He reached in and pulled out his homemade EMF meter and stared as the lights flew into the red. "Oh, you have got to be friggin' kidding me!"

"Anyone bring a shotgun? Salt?" Sam looked between the two men who both looked, well, embarrassed. "Great. Some Hunters we are." He snorted and got to his feet. "Basilisk in the basement, a witch wandering around here somewhere out for our blood, and now a ghost? What else could go…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, son." Bobby leaned down and cuffed the back of Sam's head. "You tryin' to jinx us?"

The temperature in the fun house suddenly dropped. They could see their breaths fog out even in the dim light from the two flashlights. A soft sigh sounded in the tunnel, barely audible over the muffled recording of the rooster behind the closed door.

"Iron. Anything iron." Bobby turned and ran to the back wall, pulled his flashlight free and shined it around the platform. He settled on the hacked body of the animatronic clown and dropped down next to it. "These old things used to have…" He grunted as he ripped the clown suit apart. "…iron frames."

"Too late," Sam breathed as a form began to coalesce out of the dark next to him and his brother.

Dean watched the ghost slowly appear. It was short and, as the head became clear, his eyes shot wide in shock. It was a boy in his early teens with shoulder length blonde hair, big, sorrowful eyes, and Dean remembered him. He had seen this boy in the funhouse when he was a child and thought it was a trick.

"You're real," Dean whispered as the ghost slowly turned to look up at him.

"Dean?" Sam reached a hand out, brushing his arm. "Is this…is he what you saw when you were here as a kid?" He pulled his hand back when the boy looked over at him, and the look was not friendly. It was angry. "Oh, crap. Bobby?"

"Almost!" Bobby pulled on one of the spars of the clown's leg and kicked to free it.

The ghost turned his glare from Sam to Bobby. His face darkened and all three men shouted in surprise as they were lifted and thrown. Bobby slapped into the wall a few feet behind him and slid to the floor in a daze, while Sam was tossed the length of the platform and crashed through the wall where the piano had once stood. Bobby saw Dean's feet vanish further down the funhouse tunnel and the boy's ghost flickered and vanished.

Sam groaned and opened his eyes to near darkness. "Guh…Dean? Bobby?"

"Sam! Hang on." Bobby rolled off the floor and to his knees and took a minute to let his head stop spinning. "Friggin' ghosts." He grabbed his flashlight from the floor, amazed it was still lit, and climbed to his feet. He went to the hole in the wall and shined it inside. Sam lay in a small empty space between the walls of the funhouse and the stairwell down to the tunnels. "You alright?"

"Feel great," Sam sat up and winced. "For a battering ram."

Bobby chuckled and reached a hand down to him through the hole in the wall. "Here."

"Where's Dean?" Sam stretched his arm out and froze as the floor beneath him creaked ominously. "Uh…"

"Sam, take my hand." Bobby leaned further in and slapped his hand around Sam's wrist, his voice suddenly urgent, as the floor gave way beneath him. He grunted with strain as all Sam's weight hung at the end of his arm.

Sam dangled from Bobby's arm and scrabbled his free hand at the wall until he found a hand hold. He took some of his own weight, planting his left foot and looked up. "Bobby, can you pull?" Much as he wanted to take all his weight and climb, his shoulders were still sore and stiff from his time hanging from the roller coaster. He wasn't sure he wouldn't fall if Bobby let go.

"If you…gimme some help…yeah." Bobby growled out the strain and leaned back, slowly pulling Sam with him.

Sam fought to make his right leg cooperate and get a toe into the wall. The crowing of roosters carried through the wall to his right from the stairs and just as he wondered if the basilisk was still there, a hissing growl came from beneath his feet. "Bobby! Pull faster!"

"What do you…think…dammit…I'm doin'?" Bobby yelled, but he could hear the note of sudden panic in the boy's voice. He didn't ask why. He just planted both feet into the base of the wall and gave a mighty pull. Sam came out in a rush, landing on top of him and then scrambled off.

"Basilisk," Sam gasped. He crawled to the stair door and pulled it open, found Bobby's recorder on the top step and yanked it out as the creature's head appeared in the hole.

"Shit!" Bobby rolled away as that face peered down at him with red, enraged eyes.

The basilisk opened its mouth. A small lick of fire flickered out past its snout, and then Sam clasped his hands together around the recorder and slammed them down into the top of its head. The basilisk's jaws snapped together and it jerked its head back into the hole and vanished down into the tunnel below to the sound of crowing roosters.

"Nice thinkin', Sam," Bobby grinned from the floor.

"Dean. Bobby, where?" Sam was looking around the platform frantically. He scooped the second flashlight from the floor and shined it down on the tracks. "He's not here. Bobby. Where is he?"

"Saw him tossed down the tunnel to the left. Take it easy, Sam." Bobby got to his feet, gave a long look to the hole in the wall and went to him. "There's his machete." Bobby shined the light around and saw his own, quickly picking it up while Sam sat carefully and eased his bad leg down to the floor.

"Dean!" Sam headed into the tunnel, bending to pick up his brother's machete and shined his light ahead of him. "Bobby, I don't see him." Sam eased into the dark tunnel. "Dammit." He flicked off the rooster recording, unable to hear anything above it as it echoed. "Dean?" He saw a wide swath in the dust on the floor where Dean had slid, but no brother; and, as he looked in the beam of the light, he saw no footsteps or drag marks leading away. "I think it took him. The ghost…Bobby it took Dean!"

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Dean coughed and woke. He spent a moment orienting himself and frowned. He felt like he was on a boat, rocking gently side to side. He cracked his eyes open and looked up into the cloud darkened night sky. "M'I outside?" he muttered. The last thing he remembered, he was in the funhouse and a ghost had just shown up. "Wha's goin' on?" He rolled to his side. "Shit!" Dean shouted as the ground went out from under him. He grabbed at a bar near his head and caught himself as his legs rolled out into the air. He looked down in shock to find himself atop the Ferris wheel, hanging from the highest car.

The already chilled air cooled even further, and Dean looked up, watching the spirit of the boy materialize above him in the car. "Son of a bitch!"

The boy's ghost looked down at him sadly and pointed one, shimmering hand at Dean. "You left me," His voice whispered out.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. He swung his legs up into the bottom of the car, holding tight as it swayed, and he wedged himself in next to the seat. "Didn't think you were real, kid." Dean stared up at the ghost and felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry."

"Help me."

The ghost flickered away and left Dean swinging in the car sixty feet up. He looked out over the park, shadowed in darkness with wisps of fog floating among the derelict rides and groaned. "This is not my best day ever."

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_To Be Continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

_**CHAPTER 8** _

Dean eased up into the seat, careful as the car swung slowly, and held on tight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Kid, I fall off this thing, I will kick your ass in the afterlife." He opened his eyes and leaned over the side. It was hard to make out the ground from his height in the darkness. He groaned as he got on his knees, stretching out to reach the support at the side of the car while his back protested the movement and his bruised ribs reminded him they were still bruised.

The car swung hard and Dean jerked his arm back inside, clinging to the rail. "Shit!" The temperature fell again, and the ghost of the boy appeared hanging in the air just outside the car. "You're really startin' to piss me off, kid!" The car rocked again, more forcefully as if in response. "Come on!" Dean pried one hand free and dug his phone out of pocket, hastily flipping it open and dialing as his perch rocked to and fro. "Pick up, dammit. Pick up!" He listened to it ringing while the boy watched him curiously. "Sam? You two need to come GET ME THE HELL OFF THIS DEATHTRAP!" He shouted into the phone. "Ferris wheel! Hurry up!" The car shivered and rocked hard, and Dean dropped his phone in his haste to get both hands back on the rail and not fall. "Dammit!" He had a dizzying view over the side to watch his phone tumble into the darkness below.

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Sam stared at his phone and then over at Bobby. "The Ferris wheel?"

"I hate ghosts," Bobby groaned. "Disembodied relocation crap. Come on." He'd heard Dean's voice loud and clear as Dean had yelled into the phone. He took Sam's arm and turned him around. "Sam."

"Yeah." Sam put his phone away and tried to swallow around the lump of fear in his throat. He couldn't think of a single good reason for throwing his brother on the top of the Ferris wheel that didn't involve dumping him off. Dean's fear of heights must be choking him up there. He knew the anger was a mask to hide it. He shined his light behind them down the tunnel and wondered where the basilisk had gone and, more importantly, where Margerie was. He found it hard to believe she had just lost interest and left.

Bobby pulled Sam with him out of the funhouse and helped him down the stairs. "That leg of yours is gettin' worse, isn't it?"

Sam shook his head and looked up to the top of the Ferris wheel in the center of the park. It was too dark to see much other than the dark outline of the structure against the clouds, but as he squinted, he could see something moving wildly at the top. "It's fine, Bobby. We need to hurry."

Bobby growled but kept pace with Sam's long, limping stride. He swept his eyes around them, irritated that a fog had sprung up and was slowly creeping between the rides and buildings, like it needed to be any easier for the basilisk or that witch bitch to sneak up on them. They rounded a collapsing line of concession stands and crossed an open area toward a carousel. The Ferris wheel was beyond it. Sam's head jerked up at the sound of his brother's voice raised in a shout and carried down to them in the otherwise silent park.

"Dean!" Sam shouted and broke into an uneven run, ignoring the painful twinges from his thigh and the dizziness still plaguing him from blood loss. He was thankful neither Bobby nor his brother had yet noticed the way he kept reaching down and testing the wounds, paranoid that at any moment he would feel stone beneath his hand instead of skin. Knowing he was immune and believing it were two different things. He pushed those thoughts aside as he heard his name yelled from above.

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Dean stretched over the side of the car, swallowing hard as his stomach churned at the height and got a hand on the bar connecting his car to the wheel's frame. The ghost boy still hovered a few feet away, just watching, and it was getting on Dean's already frazzled nerves. He took a deep breath and leaned out to get his other hand across and shouted in fear as the car lurched again. He momentarily considered how strange it was that his stupid fear of heights hadn't even crossed his mind when he'd been climbing all over that damn roller coaster while Sam was in danger, but now it was threatening to immobilize him if he let it.

"Dammit!" Dean fell back into the seat, bracing himself as it rolled sideways to show him the view below before evening out again. "Knock it off already!" His left foot slipped off and he pulled it back up. "SAM!" He yelled breathlessly. "What the hell do you want?"

The child's ghost tilted his head and the car began to sway again and roll with Dean inside. "You left me."

"I…did not! GAH!" Dean lost his grip as his legs came un-wedged and swung out. His hold on the safety bar was the only thing stopping his fall.

Sam took his phone back out as they reached the bottom of the wheel. It was choked in weeds and shrubbery that ran most of the way up the structure, clothing it in a green veil. He dialed his brother and stumbled to a stop as he heard Dean's ringtone from the ground at the base of the wheel.

"Must have dropped his phone," Bobby said as he slid to a stop and looked up. "I'm gonna go up." He took Sam's arm. "You keep that recorder handy and your eyes peeled. Now'd be a damn good time to come at us."

"I got it. Go!" Sam gave him a push toward the wheel and then followed the sound of Dean's ringing phone. He climbed over the lower struts and ducked under a weed choked car. He pushed through a wall of brush, ducking as the vines clung to his hair. Another shout from Dean dragged his head back up and he gasped. His brother was dangling in the air below the top most car. Sam dragged his eyes down the side of the wheel and saw Bobby almost halfway up to him.

"Hurry, Bobby," Sam breathed fearfully, practically crawling out of his skin with frustration at not being able to go help his brother himself. He looked back down and dialed Dean's phone again as it had gone silent. It was close. Sam bent, shoving his hands into a clump of leafy vines and felt around as the muted strains of a metal song played. He jerked his hand back as he felt something narrow, smooth and cold and suspiciously familiar. "What the hell?" He put his hand back in and pulled it up, his jaw dropping in surprise as he held a bleached white bone in front of his face.

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Dean dangled from the bar and kicked his feet, trying to get one leg back up on the edge of the seat. The ghost appeared beside him, watching. "What, dammit!" Dean gasped, trying to get a better grip. "What do you want from me?"

The ghost raised a spectral hand toward him. "You left me."

"No." Dean's eyes widened as the hand neared his head. He tried to jerk back, but he had nowhere to go, hanging as he was. "No!" He slammed his eyes shut as the boy's fingers slid into the side of his head and white exploded behind his eyes…

" _Come on, Joey! Don't be such a woos!"_

_Joey looked up the Ferris wheel at his older brother and his friends. They had climbed nearly halfway to the top and he shuddered with fear. "Al, I don't wanna!"_

" _Joooey's a woooosie! Joooey's a woooosie!"_ _h_ _is brother and his two friends sing-songed from above._

_It was night and the park hadn't been open in years. They had dared him to climb the Ferris wheel, and it had sounded like fun until he was standing under it. Joey sighed as they teased him and started to climb. He didn't want his big brother to think he was a woos. "I'm not a woos!" Joey shouted back to them and climbed faster. He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes and didn't look down. He focused on the bars in front of him as he went and was actually surprised when he ran out of bars to hold on to and reached the top._

" _Al?" Joey looked around in surprise to find that he was alone on top of the Ferris wheel. "Guys?" A chorus of laughter drew his eyes down to find his big brother and friends hastily climbing back down._

" _Too slow, Joey!" Al shouted back up as he jumped off and grinned up. "You better hurry if you wanna catch us!"_

" _Al!" Joey yelled and watched as they ran off and vanished into the park, laughing. "Don't leave me up here! AL!" Joey rubbed his face on his shoulders to brush away the tears that started to fall and sucked in a terrified breath as he looked down. "Al,"_ _h_ _e called weakly and started to shake as he cried. Joey sniffed and let his head fall on the bar in front of him. "I can do it. I'm not a woos. I can do this." Slowly, he moved his hands and feet and climbed down one bar. He blinked to try and clear his watery vision and climbed down another few feet. He gasped as his foot caught in a patch of vines and tried to shake it free. His hands were sweaty with fear and slipped on the cool metal, and then with a cry…he was falling…_

Dean was falling. His eyes shot open as felt himself fall and then grunted in surprise when his arm was caught in a firm grip. He looked over and let out a breath, his eyes falling closed again. "Bobby!"

Bobby groaned, feeling both his shoulders protesting. "Twice in…one day…arms are…gonna be longer…."

Dean felt himself thump into the metal supports of the Ferris wheel and reflexively grabbed on with his free arm. He heard Bobby groan with relief as he took his own weight. "Thanks, Bobby," he managed, and if his voice was a little shaky, Bobby gave no sign he noticed. Dean looked back up to the car that still swayed but was settling and suffered for the little boy abandoned by his big brother. He felt a spurt of anger for the kid's brother. In his mind, you never EVER left your little brother in danger and scared. Sure, he'd terrorized Sam when they were kids like any self-respecting big brother was supposed to, but he'd never risked him being hurt; not once.

"Dean? You alright, son?" Bobby climbed down beside him and watched his pale face with a frown. "Saw Casper with a hand in your noggin."

"Where'd he go?" Dean stared up at the car and then around the frame of the wheel.

"Poofed off." Bobby thumped a hand into his shoulder. "C'n we get off this deathtrap now?"

"Sam?"

"Down there, waitin' on your slow ass," Bobby rolled his eyes and started down.

"You left him on his own?" Dean glared and began picking his way quickly down the spars.

"You're welcome!" Bobby called after him, shaking his head and starting down himself.

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Sam watched his brother drop with his heart in his throat and was dizzy with relief when Bobby caught him at the last second. He swayed for a moment and allowed himself to take a deep breath once he saw Dean firmly on the support strut with Bobby.

"Thank God," Sam breathed. He wiped sweat from his brow and looked back down to the small clearing he'd made with the help of Dean's machete. He'd uncovered most of a skeleton, and Sam sighed sadly as he realized it was small…too small to be an adult. It had to belong to the boy they had seen. He bent and cleared a little more of the brush away, revealing the skull and reared back as the ghost appeared over his skeleton.

"Whoa!" Sam staggered back, his right leg going out on him, and landed in a pile of brush and vines. The boy's face was angry as he stared down at Sam. "Easy! I wasn't doing anything to you. I promise. I'm sorry." Sam spoke calmly and hoped there was something of the boy left to understand him. "Why did you try to hurt my brother?"

The spirit's face went from angry to confused. "Big brother."

Sam nodded, surprised. "Yes, Dean's my big brother. Why did you try to hurt him?"

"He left me." The boy's face became angry again, but he was no longer looking at Sam. He was turning to look up at Dean and Bobby climbing down.

"No! Wait!" Sam got to his good knee, desperate to distract the spirit before it went after his brother again. "Please. Dean never left you!"

"He left me." The boy's voice whispered out and he looked back down to Sam. "He'll leave you."

Sam sucked in a breath at the truth of that statement with Dean's deal looming over them. "No." Sam shook his head. "He won't. He never would. Please…"

"Sam!" Dean jumped to the ground and ran, leaping over clusters of shrubs and bushes to reach his brother. He stepped in front of him where he sat on the ground, placing himself between Sam and the boy's ghost. "Joey, you leave him alone! You hear me? He's not you and I am NOT Al!"

Joey stared up at Dean, his brows drawing together. "You left." He reached an arm out and then let it drop. "You're leaving him."

Dean jerked as if struck. "No, I'm…no." His voice was strained and thick with emotion. "I don't want to. I don't have a choice, Joey. This is…this is different than what Al did to you."

"Who's Al?" Sam whispered to Bobby as the older Hunter reached them and knelt beside him. "How does Dean know his name?"

"His big brother and his buddies," Dean didn't take his eyes from Joey, but he backed up a step to make sure he blocked the kid's view of his brother. "They tricked him into climbing this thing and then left him up there. He fell."

"Those _are_ his bones then." Sam tapped Dean's leg and pointed past him into the greenery. "Found those when I dug out your phone." He shifted so he could see around Dean's legs and felt sympathy for the boy. "Joey, that was a long time ago. You've gotta let go now. You don't have to stay here."

Dean growled a warning as Joey's ghostly eyes shifted to find his little brother again. "Joey. Don't." He put a hand behind him and shoved Sam's head back behind him. "Bobby, get him away from here."

"You think I'm leavin' you behind, you're stupid," Bobby snarled up at him and made a silent promise that one of these days he was gonna make that boy see that he was worth saving too.

Dean spared a dark glance behind him. "Can we argue about this later?" He looked back and frowned as Joey suddenly glanced down beneath him to his bones. "Joey?"

Joey looked back up quickly, his face full of fear and met Dean's eyes. "Run."

"What?" Dean asked as the ghost flickered out of sight. The ground beneath the skeleton erupted up into the night in a shower of wood, metal, stone, leaves, and bones as the basilisk exploded up from beneath in the center of the Ferris wheel. Dean spun and threw himself over his brother with Bobby as the debris rained down on them.

"Sam!" Bobby yelled and grunted as various hard and heavy things fell into his back. "You've got the recorder!"

Sam shoved at Dean's weight above him and got a hand between them and into his pocket. He could see the creature over his brother's shoulder as it slowly curled down to look at them and opened its mouth wide.

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_To Be Continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

**_CHAPTER 9_ **

Dean rolled off of Sam as his brother hit play on the recorder and the sound of crowing roosters blared out into the night. The basilisk roared its fury above them and thrashed, knocking into the defunct cars and the frame of the ferris wheel. It shook and leaves showered down on them from above.

"Dean!" Sam held up his brother's machete in his other hand.

Dean grabbed it and took Sam with his other arm. "Up! Get up!" He kept his eyes on the serpent writhing inside the Ferris wheel as he and Bobby dragged Sam out to clear ground. "This is getting old."

Sam watched the basilisk and his eyes widened. "Dean! Go around the outside!" He used their arms to get to his feet and pointed. "It's pissed enough if it tries to come at you…"

"It'll get its fool head stuck in the support structure!" Bobby grinned and slapped Sam's shoulder. "Come on." He grabbed Dean and pulled him with him around the outside of the Ferris wheel.

Dean ducked a chunk of stone thrown by the creature's frantic movements as they ran around the outside of the wheel. He could only see glimpses of it through the shrubs and vines climbing the side of the massive structure, but it had no trouble tracking them, even over the disorienting sounds still playing from the recorder in Sam's hand. Its head whipped in Dean's direction and darted forward. Its first attempt struck a bar hidden in the greenery and it bounced back with a snarl.

"Hey! Ugly!" Bobby yelled, goading it on and grinned as it reared back for another strike. This time its head shot through the bars and Bobby threw himself to the side, rolling clear of the snapping jaws while Dean ran in against the Ferris wheel and the basilisk's blind spot.

Sam watched with nerves stretched thin, wanting desperately to be in on the fight. He took a step and winced, having to take the weight off his right leg. It had been banged around one too many times now, and he pressed a hand over the open wounds from the basilisk's teeth in his thigh. A soft sound behind him drew him around in a whirl to find Margerie mere feet away with a wicked-looking, long stiletto raised toward his back.

She smiled. "Oh, dear. You caught me." Margerie took a step closer. "I might be more worried if they weren't preoccupied and you were less…battered." She pouted sarcastically at him. "Poor, Sam. You should have left town."

"Dean!" Sam shouted a warning and had to make a grab for her arm as she stabbed at him with the blade. He caught her arm on the downswing, starting to twist it hard and shouted in pain as she slammed her fist into his right thigh. He went to the ground on his knees in a daze but somehow managed to keep hold of her knife hand as he let the recorder drop, still playing, to the ground.

"Why…won't you…die?" Margerie used both hands, putting all her weight behind the stiletto, and inched the point closer to Sam's throat.

Dean brought his machete down into the basilisk's neck behind its head and ducked away, bringing the blade with him as dark blood spurted from the deep wound. "Gonna have to hack it off!" He looked over to find Bobby coming up across from him, and then Sam's voice called out over the noise. Dean stepped back and jerked in surprise; his brother was on his knees with Margerie standing over him and a knife quivering closer and closer to his throat. "Son of a bitch!"

"He can handle it, Dean!" Bobby yelled before Dean could move. He knew this might be their only chance of catching the creature where they could kill it. "Dean!"

Dean growled, tore his eyes away from his struggling brother, and slashed the machete into the basilisk's neck again. It screamed, and Dean felt fresh blood trickle from his ears as they rang with the piercing sound.

Sam struggled for control of the blade and purposefully fell to his back, bringing Margerie with him in a rush. He turned her hands so the stiletto went into the ground beside his neck instead of through it. He drove his left knee up into her side and pulled her over to the ground, rolling to straddle her with the knife still held by them both.

"Stop. Margerie…don't!" Sam begged, but as she snarled up at him and shoved the blade forward again to prick at his neck, he let the rage take over. Sam twisted her hand viciously, making her scream as something snapped in her wrist. He wrenched the stiletto free and turned it on her. Madness flowed across her face, blotting out the pain, and Sam gasped as Margerie took hold of his hand over the hilt and pulled it down as she surged up, driving the blade into the base of her own throat.

"God!" Sam reared back and slid off her to the side as she choked and rolled her head to look at him.

"Don't think…this means…you're safe…" Margerie whispered brokenly as she smiled and her eyes glazed over as death took her.

"Why would you do that?" Sam asked softly, staring at her in shock, somehow saddened by the loss of her young life, despite the evil that he knew had corrupted her soul.

Bobby grunted with the effort of slicing the machete's blade down through the creature's thick neck and avoiding being splattered with its blood at the same time. The basilisk had pretty much stopped fighting now its head was hanging by a thread of sinew. He backed up a hasty step as Dean's blade swung down and severed it, letting the serpent's head fall to the weed-choked pavement with a splat.

"Should'a brought a chainsaw," Bobby said ruefully. He set the machete on the ground and studied his hands, making sure he was clean of the venom.

"Sammy?" Dean dropped his and ran to his brother where he sat on the ground beside Margerie's body. "Sam." He knelt beside him and took his arm. "You alright?" He took his brother's chin and tipped his head up looking for blood in the dim light.

"I'm fine. She didn't get me," Sam said softly, still looking at her. "She killed herself. Why would she do that?"

"She was a crazy bitch," Dean shrugged. He scowled, feeling a strange tingling sensation in his left hand. He raised it up and looked down at the cut he'd received in Margerie's basement earlier in the day.

"Dean?" Sam looked up and flinched as Dean suddenly gasped in pain, clutching his left hand. "What is it?" He grabbed his brother's hand and turned it so he could get a look. "Bobby! You still have your flashlight?"

"Yeah." Bobby pulled it out and jogged over. "What's goin' on?" He flicked it on and shined on Dean's hand. "Oh, God." Grey lines of basilisk venom were spreading out from the cut in Dean's hand. Venom glistened darkly against his skin.

"Splashed me…while I was…ganking it." Dean hunched over on a groan.

"No," Sam breathed.

"Both of ya, take it easy." Bobby swallowed his own panic. There was no time for it with the naked fear he saw on both of their faces. "We got plenty of time to get him back to the motel and cure him; hours at least. Dean. Son, you just stay calm and it'll slow the spread."

"Calm. Right," Dean grunted and lost the breath to argue with Sam sliding an arm around his shoulders as the venom worked into him.

"Just breathe, Dean." Sam held on to his brother's trembling shoulders, grimacing with him; he knew exactly what Dean was feeling and that it would only get worse as the pain became all-consuming each time it spread.

"Let's get him up." Bobby took Dean's shoulder and pulled him slowly up, supporting him as he shook. Inwardly, he wasn't sure he had it in him to watch Dean suffer through what he'd seen with Sam.

Sam got to his own feet with a groan and forced his bad leg to cooperate as he slid under Dean's arm. "We've got you."

"Shut up. M'fine," Dean grumbled and closed his eyes for a moment as they started walking. His hand burned from the inside and he had the unsettling sensation of something moving sluggishly through his hand. It made him want to scratch at it. The only thing stopping him was Sam's firm grip on his good hand over his shoulder.

Bobby felt the shudders through the hand he kept on Dean's back and could hear his stuttering breaths; he suffered with him and wished it had been him rather than Dean. He staggered to a stop as a peal of thunder crashed above them and stared up at the cloudy night sky. "No," He muttered. "Don't you dare!"

Sam felt Dean flinch as the first, fat rain drop struck him. "Dean? Oh, crap. Bobby!"

"I know. Balls!" Bobby looked frantically around and sighed. "Get him to the funhouse." The venom-inspired hydrophobia was starting to take hold as they dragged Dean forward and he began to struggle. "Dammit, boy!" He grunted as Dean's elbow hit him in the stomach. "Keep a lid on it for a few…oof…more seconds."

Sam kept a death-grip on his brother's arm, refusing to let him tug it free. It was the only point of control he had as the rain started to fall in earnest and they staggered for the funhouse. "Dean. Dean! Get in the funhouse and you'll be dry! No water!"

Sam's words got through the panic trying to swamp him, and, for the moment, Dean managed to stop fighting them. The fear was a huge, foreign thing that made him want to scream. Instead, Dean all but ran to the funhouse, leaving them to lag behind. He jumped the stairs and just inside the door went to his knees and stared at his hand as the venom spread again. Dean threw his head back and screamed.

"Dean!" Sam broke into a limping run to reach him, wiping rainwater out of his eyes as Bobby outpaced him and got there first. His brother's voice drove fear into his heart for him. He stumbled up the steps, ignoring the giant clown on the front of the dilapidated building and dropped to kneel beside him. "Dean?"

Dean sucked in a breath as the pain eased and shuddered, unable to stop himself collapsing into Sam. "Shit," He panted breathlessly.

Bobby held Dean's poisoned hand, careful not to touch the venom still clinging to it and had to swallow hard. The center of Dean's hand was now stone and had crept up to meet his wrist while his fingers were still flesh and blood for the moment. "We need a tub or something to cure him. Never gonna get him to the car with it pourin'!"

Sam looked out at the rain that was sheeting down and shuddered with the memory of how the venom had terrified him. He tightened his arms around his brother and nodded. "Margerie's…garden of victims…under the funhouse? There was a pond or something right in the center. We know where it is and it's close."

"That'll work. Help me get him up." Bobby stood and watched with a frown as Sam pulled himself up with the help of the door, leaving Dean to lean against his legs.

"Ok, Dean." Sam bent and took his arm. "You stand?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded, mostly aware again and used Bobby's outstretched hand to get up. As much pain as he was in, it didn't escape him that Sam was near lame thanks to the night's events. "Bobby," Dean nudged him as the older Hunter pulled one of his arms over his shoulders. "Sam's bleedin' again."

"Oh, for…" Sam rolled his eyes as he grabbed Dean's arm to steady him through the rotating tunnel. "It's nothing. Margerie hit it, reopened the wounds a little."

"Priorities, Dean," Bobby told him firmly.

Dean growled. "He is my priori…" He broke off on a gasp and had to stop walking as pain shot from his hand, up his arm and into his head.

"It's spreading." Sam wrapped his arm around his brother's waist as he shook and gasped.

"Alright. That's it." Bobby couldn't take it anymore. "Walkin's makin' it spread faster." He spun Dean and tipped him over a shoulder; for the moment, grateful that he was too lost in pain to complain. "Let's move."

Sam sighed and followed behind them and the light from Bobby's flashlight cutting through the gloom. Knowing they didn't have to worry about the basilisk or a witch this time made the trip back through the funhouse go more quickly. He kept one hand on the wall to keep himself on his feet and had to crawl up onto the platform, skirting the dismembered animatronic clown while Bobby pulled the door to the stairs open and started down them.

"Bobby…pu'me down." Dean's voice was hoarse and slurred, but he was damned if he was going to be carried like a sack of potatoes. "I can walk."

"Shuddup," Bobby said gruffly as he started down the stairs. "More you move, the faster it spreads and it's gonna spread plenty when we try to cure it." He was definitely not looking forward to that. With Sam, his legs had been fairly immobilized leaving him less able to put up a fight. Dean on the other hand…Bobby sighed.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked from behind them and put a hand to his brother's back.

Dean raised his head enough to give Sam a disgusted face. "Dumb question, dumbass."

Sam snorted a laugh. "Well, at least the venom hasn't damaged your wit."

Bobby chuckled as he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned down the tunnel toward the macabre stone garden. It soothed his nerves slightly, hearing them snark at each other like they always did. He neared the end of the tunnel and stopped, lowering Dean's legs to the floor and propped him up against the tunnel wall. "I'm gonna go get it ready. You just…stay here." He could hear water dripping in the room beyond and didn't want to risk it.

Sam grabbed his brother's arm as Bobby vanished around the corner. "If you see the water now, you'll balk."

"I remember, dammit," Dean growled and let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting with his hand cradled against his chest.

Sam eased down the wall beside him and groaned softly in relief at finally being off his leg. "I'm sorry I ever found this job."

"Don't," Dean told him wearily. "People were dying, dude. This is what we do."

Sam watched the shadow of his face in the tunnel, saw Dean's jaw twitch and clench. "Breathe." He slid his arm over his brother's shoulders and clearly recognized the signs that the venom was about to spread again. "Remember to breathe." Whatever argument Dean might have made was gone as the pain rushed over him again. "Easy," Sam murmured and drew his brother in against him as a ragged scream escaped Dean's rigid control. Sam fished his arm out of his lap and flinched as his hand found stone beneath his fingers instead of his brother's wrist. He was glad Bobby had the flashlight with him. He didn't need to see it to know…to understand the agony coursing through Dean as he filled the tunnel with heart-breaking screams and finally a sob as he collapsed against Sam.

"Sam?" Bobby's voice called worriedly from the other room.

"He's alright." Sam pulled Dean in against his chest and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck as Dean often did for him, to offer comfort as he shook in the aftermath. "You're alright."

Bobby appeared a moment later with the flashlight and knelt beside them. He hissed in a breath as he saw Dean's now solidly stone hand. "This is gonna be damn cold. Probably oughta get most of his clothes off so he has something dry to wear after."

"Can't believe…gonna get stripped…in a tunnel." Dean panted and tried for humor.

Sam smiled for him and pushed him upright. "Well, unless you want to ride back to the motel in the Impala getting the seat wet."

"Shuddup." Dean studiously avoided looking at his own arm and shrugged his right out of his jacket with Sam's help. "This is humiliating."

Bobby and Sam focused on getting his shirts off over his transformed arm, noting with a spike of fear that the stone had grown halfway to his elbow. Bobby pulled Dean to his feet and Dean in turn, with a little cussing, got his own pants down.

"Keepin' my shorts on, you pervs," Dean informed them in a voice heavy with anger and embarrassment.

Sam took Dean's left arm above the stone while Bobby slid in on his right with a thoroughly uncomfortable face at having to grab a nearly naked Dean. "Close your eyes, Dean," Sam told him. "Maybe we can…get you closer before the hydrophobia kicks in."

Dean nodded and slammed them closed. He could feel the beginnings of a new wave of transformation coming and more than that…the slowly bubbling fear from the venom as though it knew they were taking him to be cured. "I'm good."

They moved Dean out into the chamber, picking their way around and over the mostly destroyed statues of the basilisk's victims. They were nearly there when a stray drop of water, probably from the rain storm above, fell and landed on Dean's face. He went mad. Dean knew he was fighting but it was distant…disconnected in the midst of a new wave of agony burning through him. Someone was screaming too and he wanted them to stop, unable to connect the sound with his own voice.

"Hold him!" Bobby shouted as Dean writhed in their grip at the edge of the pool. The younger Hunter swept a leg into Bobby's and sent him sprawling before turning on Sam with his good arm and slapped his forearm into his brother's neck, trying to get loose in a fury.

Sam choked with the blow, but kept his grip on Dean's damaged arm. His panic and the fight were driving the venom deeper into Dean. He was watching the grey lines crawl up his shoulder and over his collarbone while Dean fought and shook with the pain.

"Not…letting you…die!" Sam wrapped both arms around his brother as Dean jammed his knee into Sam's bad leg, making him shout. "NO!" Sam threw himself sideways and toppled them both into the little pool of now softly glowing, green water. He sucked in a breath before his head went under and struggled to hold on to his now wildly flailing brother as his wet, bare skin slipped in his grip, in spite of the fact that Dean was blindly pushing him down in his own panicked attempts to get out of the water. Sam felt hands grab at his shoulders and he was pulled up, gasping in a lungful of air to find Bobby above him.

"Hold on to him, son!"

Sam nodded, unable to speak. He rolled so that the left side of Dean's body was under the water, trusting Bobby to keep his brother's head up so he could breathe. "Dean!" Sam pushed him down, taking an elbow in the ribs that knocked the air out of him but kept his place, weighing Dean down with his body to let the antidote do its work. Dean threw his head back suddenly and let out a gasping, wrenching scream and then went limp. "Dean?"

"It's alright." Bobby took one hand from Dean's head and put it on Sam's sopping shoulder. "You passed out too once the antidote did its work. He's ok."

Sam slid off his brother and pulled Dean over against his chest. "Check…check his arm."

Bobby pulled Dean's left arm out of the slightly thickened green water and grinned, rubbing the stuff off the bare skin and found only skin, pink and healthy rather than stone. "It worked."

Sam sagged back against the lip of the pool; exhausted but kept his arms around Dean's chest to hold him up with his brother's head tilted back on his shoulder. He listened to the fast, even breaths in his ear and let it calm the panic. "S'good thing he wasn't…thinking clearly." Sam smirked and closed his eyes. "Would'a…cleaned the floor with us."

Bobby chuckled and nodded. "Pretty much did anyway." He frowned, watching his boys begin to shiver. He slid his hands under Dean's shoulders and smiled as Sam reflexively tightened his grip. "Easy, Sam. Just gonna get him out and then you. Too damn cold to stay in there. Let go."

Sam opened his eyes and did so, watching as Bobby eased his brother up and on to the floor. He rolled to pick himself up and winced as he climbed out and turned to sit with his legs still in the stinking water.

"You alright, son?" Bobby watched Sam worriedly.

"Yeah." Sam nodded and gave him a small smile. "Just tired." He rubbed at the spot on his ribs Dean had hit. "And sore." His brother stirred next to him and Sam leaned over his head. "Dean?"

Dean groaned softly and blinked his eyes open to find Sam leaning worriedly over him. "Pers…personal space, dude."

Sam ginned and patted his slick shoulder before leaning back. "You s-smell," He said through chattering teeth. It was damn cold in the tunnel and sitting in his soaking clothes wasn't helping.

"I'll get his clothes." Bobby patted Dean's other shoulder with a smile. "Good to have you back, son."

"I go somewhere?" Dean pushed up so he was sitting, shivered and groaned as he got a whiff of the green water still clinging to him. "Yech."

"Least you've g-got d-dry clothes." Sam stuttered through his chattering teeth.

Dean held his hand up and ran his fingers over and around the cut in his palm. The relief at feeling his own skin instead of stone was enough to make him dizzy. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and got to his feet as Bobby came back with his clothes. "Dude, shine that somewhere else 'til I'm decent," Dean growled as the flashlight played over his bare legs.

Bobby chuckled and handed him his clothes. "Such a diva. Ok, Sam." He bent to the younger Winchester and slid his hands under Sam's shoulders. "Up you get."

Sam groaned as Bobby pulled him to his feet and curled over his bruised chest. "Ow."

"What happened to him?" Dean asked as he pulled up his jeans, grateful to be clothed and warmer.

"Same thing that happened to my back." Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean and rubbed a hand over his lower back. "One very pissed off, venom-panicked Winchester."

"I was not panicked," Dean argued and pulled his jacket on, suddenly embarrassed as hazy memories of screaming and fighting his brother and Bobby drifted through his head. "Stop smirkin' at me," He glared at Sam and took his brother's arm with a sniff. "Dude, you're riding in the trunk."

Sam was struggling to keep his right leg under him by the time they reached the parking lot and the Impala. He had to hang on to Dean to stay standing while Bobby draped a towel from the trunk over the passenger seat before he could ease into the car. He didn't want the stink of the antidote perfuming the car any more than his brother.

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam smiled and let his head fall back to the seat.

Bobby patted his shoulder and closed the door. "I'll go clean up the mess in there," He told Dean. "Don't worry, I'll take care of the kid too."

Dean sighed and leaned against the car, looking over at the park and the shadows of the rides against the night sky. The rain had stopped some time while they were underground and the clouds had started to clear, letting the occasional shaft of moonlight break through to wash over the park and the Ferris wheel in the center of it all. "Poor kid was just trying to impress his dick of a big brother," Dean said sadly and turned away. "Just…be gentle, you know? When you salt and burn his bones. He's not…the kid deserved better."

Bobby clasped a hand on Dean's shoulder in understanding. "I'll take care of him, son." He nodded to the car. "You take care of yours."

"Always, Bobby," Dean said fiercely and rounded the car to climb behind the wheel. He glanced over at his little brother and that fierce protective instinct flared, as it did every moment of every day since he made his deal as if to remind him that in a few short months he would be leaving Sam alone for good. Dean looked out and watched Bobby heading back into the park with a duffel bag and, for a moment, wanted to call him back and tell him to get one of the basilisk's eyes. He shook himself and started the car, letting the rumble of her engine soothe him. "You good?"

"Yeah." Sam cracked one eye to look at his brother as they pulled away from the park. "Dibs on the shower."

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "I'll race ya for it." He grinned as Sam slapped his arm.

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**_-Epilogue-_ **

Dean slapped Sam's right leg as he passed him, making his brother hiss in a breath. "Time to go, Sasquatch."

"Jerk." Sam rubbed a hand over the bandaged bite marks on his thigh.

"Bitch." Dean grinned back and tossed his brother's bag to him. "Pack up the car. I gotta hit the head."

Sam took his bag and stood as the bathroom door shut. "Maybe I'll ride with Bobby," He grumbled as he limped out of the room and to the car. They had decided to spend a couple days at the salvage yard and give Sam's leg a chance to heal properly. He opened the trunk and tossed his bag in then shivered as a sudden chill passed over his entire body. He looked up as Bobby came out of the room next to theirs and shook it off. "Hey, Bobby."

"Where's princess? Still gettin' his beauty sleep?"

Sam grinned at him. "Bathroom."

"Well, tell him to move his ass." Bobby smiled at Sam and climbed up into the cab of his truck. "I ain't spendin' another day in there with those creepy shadow portraits."

Sam chuckled. "I'll get him." He limped back into the room and sighed, seeing the bathroom door still closed. He rolled his eyes. "Dean! Bobby's waiting on us." He went to the door and banged on it. "Dude, we can leave without you." He waited for Dean's rant and frowned when it didn't come. "Dean?" Sam knocked on the door again, then put his ear to it and listened. He heard nothing. "Ok, not funny. Dean!" Sam banged on the door and took the knob, concern getting the better of him. "I'm coming in. Last warning." He waited and, when he heard nothing, turned the knob and pushed it open…onto an empty room.

"Dean?" Sam stepped into the bathroom and swallowed hard as fear rose up to choke him. There was no sign of his brother. "What's going on?" There was no window in the bathroom for him to have left by. Sam stumbled back into the bedroom and looked around in confusion. "Dean!" He'd been outside. There was no way Dean had left the room and not been seen.

Sam ran to the door and looked out into the parking lot, again seeing no sign of his brother; only Bobby as the truck's engine rumbled to life. He turned back and stared at the room. "This isn't happening. This is not…Dean? Come on, where are you?" He stepped out of the door to get Bobby and froze. Sam turned back to the room slowly as shock coursed through him and walked in a stumbling step across the carpeted floor to the wall. Sam raised a shaking hand to the row of shadow portraits on the wall and let his fingers ghost over the profile of a portrait he _knew_ had not been there ten minutes earlier. He would know that profile anywhere and the impossibility of seeing it there now strangled him with terror.

"Dean."

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_The End…?_

_…Stay tuned for the continuation in "Just a Shadow of Myself"_


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